The Cycle Analysis

The clapping blackness of the wings of pointed cormorants,

  the great indolent planes

Of autumn pelicans nine or a dozen strung shorelong,

But chiefly the gulls, the cloud-calligraphers of windy

  spirals before a storm,

Cruise north and south over the sea-rocks and over

That bluish enormous opal; very lately these alone,

  these and the clouds

And westering lights of heaven, crossed it; but then

A hull with standing canvas crept about Point Lobos...

  now all day long the steamers

Smudge the opal's rim; often a seaplane troubles

The sea-wind with its throbbing heart. These will

  increase, the others diminish; and later

These will diminish; our Pacific have pastured

The Mediterranean torch and passed it west across the

  fountains of the morning;

And the following desolation that feeds on Crete

Feed here; the clapping blackness of the wings of pointed

  cormorants, the great sails

Of autumn pelicans, the gray sea-going gulls,

Alone will streak the enormous opal, the earth have peace

  like the broad water, our blood's

Unrest have doubled to Asia and be peopling

Europe again, or dropping colonies at the morning star:

  what moody traveller

Wanders back here, watches the sea-fowl circle

The old sea-granite and cemented granite with one regard,

  and greets my ghost,

One temper with the granite, bulking about here?





Submitted by Holt

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