Classic Poem

Lone gulls are being blown about the sky
Like snow smoke, and my heart can hear them cry
Brokenly over the cliffs of wind an old
Song for the gull that shall no longer fly;
And now the west gleams acid blue with cold,
The sun sinks fiercely bleak like frozen gold,
But memory of you melts my grief, and I
Feel your warm fingers loosing the winter's hold.

For though the flinty stars be scraped with frost
And sharpened a savage green against the dark,
And gulls lament the gull for ever lost,
You touch my spirit's numbness to a spark
Until December blazes like July …
Lone gulls are being blown about the sky.