Robinson Jeffers

(10 January 1887 – 20 January 1962 / Allegheny, Pennsylvania)

The Low Sky - Poem by Robinson Jeffers

No vulture is here, hardly a hawk,
Could long wings or great eyes fly
Under this low-lidded soft sky?

On the wide heather the curlew's whistle
Dies of its echo, it has no room
Under the low lid of this tomb.

But one to whom mind and imagination
Sometimes used to seem burdensome
Is glad to lie down awhile in the tomb.

Among stones and quietness
The mind dissolves without a sound,
The flesh drops into the ground.


Comments about The Low Sky by Robinson Jeffers

  • Fabrizio Frosini (12/10/2015 7:21:00 AM)


    No vulture is here, hardly a hawk,
    Could long wings or great eyes fly
    Under this low-lidded soft sky?

    - ITALIAN:

    Non un avvoltoio, a mala pena un falco,
    Come potrebbero quelle lunghe ali o i grandi occhi volare
    Sotto questo morbido cielo mezzo addormentato?
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010



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