The Eagle
Say never the strong heart
In the consuming breath
Cries out unto the dark
The skinny death.
Look! whirring on the rind
Of aether a white eagle,
Shot out of the mind,
The windy apple, burning,
Hears no more, past compass
In his topless flight,
The apple wormed, blown up
By shells of light;
So, faggot of the heart
On the cinder day
The woman and the man!
David and Sybil say
The world has a season
Under the world’s might:
Now in deep autumn–
Black apple in the night.
Think not the world spins ever
(Only the world has a year)
Only the gaunt fierce bird
Flies, merciless with fear
Lest air hold him not,
Beats up the scaffold of space
Sick of the world’s rot–
God’s hideous face.
