Over the calm of an ebb that almost mirrors their wings.
The sun has gone down, and the water has gone down
From the weed-clad rock, but the distant cloud-wall rises. The
ebb whispers.
Great cloud-shadows float in the opal water.
Through rifts in the screen of the world pale gold gleams, and the
evening
Star suddenly glides like a flying torch.
As if we had not been meant to see her; rehearsing behind
The screen of the world for another audience.
I made them alive; but when they looked up at the face beforethey had seen it they were drunken and fell down.I have seen and not fallen, I am stronger than the idols,But my tongue is stone how could I speak him? My blood in myveins is seawater how could it catch fire?The rock shining…
Ran full but clear. A bare-legged girlin a red jersey was wadingin it, holding a five-tinedHay-fork at her head’s height; suddenly she darted it down likea heron’s beak and panting hardLeaned on the shaft, looking down passionately, her gipsy-leanface, then stooped and dippingOne arm to the little breasts she drew up her catch, great hammered-silver…
far verge.The ocean is green where the river empties,Dull gray between the points of the headlands, purple wherethe women walk.What do they want? Whom are they mourning?What hero’s dust in the urn between the two hands hidden inthe veil?Titaness after Titaness proudlyBearing her tender magnificent sorrow at her heart, the lostbattle’s beauty.
Breathe deep at dawn, wish it were the last breath,Imagine the leaden ball planted in the brain,The seed of that superb flower, dream the brave nooseThat loves the neck so dearly it lets the life loose,Dream the fierce joys of war where men like drunkenJesuses fling the supreme gift at each other,‘Take blessedness, take it…
On a long cable; here the ships warped inAnd took their loads from the engine, the wateris deep to the cliff. The carHangs half way over in the gape of the gorge,Stationed like a north star above the peaks ofthe redwoods, iron perchFor the little red hawks when they cease fromhoveringWhen they’ve struck prey; the…
Watch their own eyes.This gray rock, standing tallOn the headland, where the seawindLets no tree grow,Earthquake-proved, and signaturedBy ages of storms: on its peakA falcon has perched.I think here is your emblemTo hang in the future sky;Not the cross, not the hive,But this; bright power, dark peace;Fierce consciousness joined with finalDisinterestedness;Life with calm death; the…
