GRAY gulls that wheeled and dipped and rose <br />Where tossing crests like Alpine snows <br />Would shimmer and entice; <br />A stormy petrel, Judas soul, <br />Dark wanderer of the waste, whose goal <br />No mariner hath seen; <br />And flaming from the vanished sun <br />A wondrous wing vermilion, <br />A bird of Paradise, <br />A soaring wing that shone so far <br />The orient horizon bar <br />Flushed, and the sea between <br />Like an Arabian carpet glowed <br />With changeful hues where subtly flowed <br />Some magical device; <br />And one pale plume in heaven's dim dome <br />Above that fairy-colored foam, <br />The new moon's ghostly sheen.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wings-61/
