Robinson Jeffers Poems
|122.||Love The Wild Swan||1/13/2003|
|123.||Apology For Bad Dreams||4/12/2010|
|124.||To The Stone-Cutters||1/13/2003|
|126.||Rock And Hawk||1/13/2003|
|127.||The Deer Lay Down Their Bones||1/13/2003|
|128.||So Many Blood-Lakes||1/13/2003|
|130.||The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean||1/13/2003|
|133.||Contemplation Of The Sword||1/13/2003|
|134.||Ascent To The Sierras||1/13/2003|
|136.||Fire On The Hills||1/13/2003|
|138.||Shine, Perishing Republic||1/13/2003|
|139.||Be Angry At The Sun||1/13/2003|
I had walked since dawn and lay down to rest on a bare hillside
Above the ocean. I saw through half-shut eyelids a vulture wheeling
high up in heaven,
And presently it passed again, but lower and nearer, its orbit
I understood then
That I was under inspection. I lay death-still and heard the flight-
Whistle above me and make their circle and come nearer.
I could see the naked red head between the great wings
Bear downward staring. I said, 'My dear bird, we are wasting time
These old bones will still work; ...
On Building With Stone
To be an ape in little of the mountain-making mother
Like swarthy Cheops, but my own hands
For only slaves, is a far sweeter toil than to cut
Passions in verse for a sick people.
I'd liefer bed one boulder in the house-wall than be the time's
Archilochus: we name not Homer: who now
Can even imagine the fabulous dawn when bay-leaves (to a blind
Beggar) were not bitter in the teeth?