Winter 1940 • Vol. II No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1940 |

Variations on a Summer Day

I Say of the gulls that they are flying In light blue air over dark blue sea. II A music more than a breath, but less Than the wind, sub-music like sub-speech, A repetition of unconscious things, Letters of rock and water, words Of the visible elements and of ours. IIIThe rocks of the cliffs are the heads of dogsThat turn into fishes and leapInto the sea. IVStar over Monhegan, Atlantic star,Lantern without a bearer, you drift,You, too, are drifting, in spite of your course;Unless in the darkness, brightly-crownedYou are the will, if there is a will,Or the portent of a will that was,One of the portents of the will that was. VThe leaves of the sea are shaken and shaken.There was a tree that was a father.We sat beneath it and sang our songs. VIIt is cold to be forever young,To come to tragic shores and flow,In sapphire, round the sun-bleached stones,Being, for old men, time of their time. VIIOne sparrow is worth a thousand gulls,When it sings. The gull sits on chi

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