Robinson Jeffers

The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with
And pain a few days: cat nor

A little too abstract, a little too wise,
It is time for us to kiss the earth again,
It is time to let the leaves rain from the skies,
Let the rich life run to the roots again

Our sardine fishermen work at night in the dark of the moon; daylight or
They could not tell where to spread the net, unable to see the phosphorescence of the shoals of fish
They work northward from Monterey, coasting Santa Cruz; off New...

The heads of strong old age are
Beyond all grace of youth
They have strange quiet,
Integrity, health, soundness, to the

The storm-dances of gulls, the barking game of seals,
Over and under the ocean…Divinely superfluous
Rules the games, presides over destinies, makes trees
And hills tower, waves fall

Unhappy about some far off
That are not my affair,
Along the coast and up the lean ridges,
I saw in the

The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white
Hooked in the stones of the wall,
The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter,
Cassandra,