High Falcon & Other Poems/Sundown

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SUNDOWN
This is the time lean woods shall spendA steeped-up twilight, and the pale evening drink,And the perilous roe, the leaper to the west brink,Trembling and bright to the caverned cloud descend.
Now shall you see pent oak gone gusty and frantic,Stooped with dry weeping, ruinously unloosingThe sparse disheveled leaf, or reared and tossingA dreary scarecrow bough in funeral antic.
Aye, tatter you and rend,Oak heart, to your profession mourning; not obscureThe outcome, not crepuscular; on the deep floorSable and gold match lustres and contend.
And rags of shrouding will not muffle the slain.This is the immortal extinction, the priceless woundNot to be staunched. The live gold leaks beyond,And matter's sanctified, dipped in a gold stain.
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