The Eagle

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Say never the strong heart
In the consuming breath
Cries out unto the dark
The skinny death.

Look! whirring on the rind
Of aether a white eagle,
Shot out of the mind,
The windy apple, burning,

Hears no more, past compass
In his topless flight,
The apple wormed, blown up
By shells of light;

So, faggot of the heart
On the cinder day
The woman and the man!
David and Sybil say

The world has a season
Under the world's might:
Now in deep autumn-
Black apple in the night.

Think not the world spins ever
(Only the world has a year)
Only the gaunt fierce bird
Flies, merciless with fear

Lest air hold him not,
Beats up the scaffold of space
Sick of the world's rot-
God's hideous face.

© Allen Tate