The bird with the dark plumes in my blood, <br />That never for one moment however I patched my truces <br />Consented to make peace with the people, <br />It is pitiful now to watch her pleasure In a breath of <br /> tempest <br />Breaking the sad promise of spring. <br />Are these that morose hawk's wings, vaulting, a mere <br /> mad swallow's, <br />The snow-shed peak, the violent precipice? <br />Poor outlaw that would not value their praise do you <br /> prize their blame? <br />"Their liking" she said "was a long creance, <br />But let them be kind enough to hate me that opens the <br /> sky." <br />It is almost as foolish my poor falcon <br />To want hatred as to want love; and harder to win. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Holt<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bird-with-the-dark-plumes/
