Some will call the skimming planets, cranes
Going south for winter—nothing more;
And some will sow the icy fields with grains,
Search barren pools,
Harvest sea-weed, plant a pebble, or
Plow snow with patient tools.
Going south for winter—nothing more;
And some will sow the icy fields with grains,
Search barren pools,
Harvest sea-weed, plant a pebble, or
Plow snow with patient tools.
And they will never cease to look for spring:
Climb endless hills,
And turn from east to west and west to east;
Imagining the least
Shreds of far color,
Supposing that they feel
Warmth on their faces, following the wheel
Circling on its axis, they will search the sky
For sign of thaw or rain, or any change—
Looking for birds, where only dead stars fly
And calling snows, and deepening snow falls, strange.
Climb endless hills,
And turn from east to west and west to east;
Imagining the least
Shreds of far color,
Supposing that they feel
Warmth on their faces, following the wheel
Circling on its axis, they will search the sky
For sign of thaw or rain, or any change—
Looking for birds, where only dead stars fly
And calling snows, and deepening snow falls, strange.
In tightening silence, they will search for sound;
Beneath the smother of the sky
Find tangled iron, as the first men found
Iron and more than mortal sinew in the ground.
Beneath the smother of the sky
Find tangled iron, as the first men found
Iron and more than mortal sinew in the ground.
And they will worship symbols of sure things—
Sure things, and tangible, cut clear.
Forgetting rust, they will keep iron near,
Sure things, and tangible, cut clear.
Forgetting rust, they will keep iron near,
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