Poems by Robinson Jeffers
The Broadstone
... In waves on waves of purple heather and blithe spray of its bells ...
The Low Sky
... On the wide heather the curlew's whistle ...
Decaying Lambskins
... Our civilization, the worst it can do, cannot yet destroy itself ...
The Great Sunset
... no doubt The counter-fantasy that came to my eyes in the evening, on the ...
No Resurrection
... the hated Held steel at your throat or had killed your children, were more ...
Shine, Republic
... But keep the tradition, conserve the forms, the observances, keep ...
Shooting Season
... With a bitter flavor in the grin of amusement, uneasily remembering ...
At The Birth Of An Age
... threw bones. Bishop Lupus and his followers are led in, and set to stand facing ...
The Giants Ring
... This nameless chief of a knot of forgotten tribes in the Irish darkness ...
November Surf
... Sheaths that make light love safe in the evenings: all the droppings ...
Soliloquy
... They had heroes for companions, beautiful youths to dream of, ...
The Cruel Falcon
... Contemplation would make a good life, keep it strict, only ...
Granite And Cypress
... Brooded on water and bred them in wide waste places, in a bridechamber ...
Birds
... Needs multitude, multitudes of thoughts, all fierce, all flesh-eaters, ...
The Beauty of Things
... The rests diversion: those holy or noble sentiments, the intricate ideas, ...
