Aloof upon the day's immeasured dome, <br /> He holds unshared the silence of the sky. <br /> Far down his bleak, relentless eyes descry <br />The eagle's empire and the falcon's home -- <br />Far down, the galleons of sunset roam; <br /> His hazards on the sea of morning lie; <br /> Serene, he hears the broken tempest sigh <br />Where cold sierras gleam like scattered foam. <br /> <br />And least of all he holds the human swarm -- <br /> Unwitting now that envious men prepare <br /> To make their dream and its fulfillment one, <br />When, poised above the caldrons of the storm, <br /> Their hearts, contemptuous of death, shall dare <br /> His roads between the thunder and the sun.<br /><br />George Sterling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-black-vulture/
