There is a hawk that is picking the birds out of our sky, <br />She killed the pigeons of peace and security, <br />She has taken honesty and confidence from nations and men, <br />She is hunting the lonely heron of liberty. <br />She loads the arts with nonsense, she is very cunning <br />Science with dreams and the state with powers to catch them at last. <br />Nothing will escape her at last, flying nor running. <br />This is the hawk that picks out the star's eyes. <br />This is the only hunter that will ever catch the wild swan; <br />The prey she will take last is the wild white swan of the beauty of things. <br />Then she will be alone, pure destruction, achieved and supreme, <br />Empty darkness under the death-tent wings. <br />She will build a nest of the swan's bones and hatch a new brood, <br />Hang new heavens with new birds, all be renewed.<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shiva/
