High Falcon & Other Poems/Evening Sky

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EVENING SKY
How now are we tossed about by a windy heaven,The eye that scans it madded to discernIn a single quarter all the wild ravage of light,Amazing light to quiver and suddenly turnBefore the stormy demon fall of night;And yet west spaces saved celestialWith silver sprinklings of the anointed sun.The eye goes up for certitude,Driven hither and thither on that shifty sceneTo the dome closing like impenetrable hoar,And down from the cold zenith drops abashed;O desolation rent by intolerable blueOf the living heaven's core,Nor death itself at last the heavenly whim.For how can an eye sustainTo watch heaven slain and quickening, or doTo stretch in its little orbit and contain.Sky balancing chaos in an inconstant rim?
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