HE birds that soar break
Like heavy bodies hurled!
Not so the birds of
They move as in a
On which they touch
How patterned their flight!
The owl, the whippoorwill!
And like volcano's
His plumes all
Black mirrors are his eyes(The owl's).
They'll fill with
What time will come the
As from tongues taut with dews(The whippoorwills).
What
Are in their day-lost world,
What motions and what hues!
