The sun was gone under the wine-colored ocean,
then the deep west fountained
unanticipated magnificences of soaring rose and heavy purple,
atmospheres of flame-shot
color played like a mountain surf, over the abrupt coast,
up the austere hills,
on the women talking, on the men's bent forms filling the grave,
on the oak, on the eagle's prison, one glory
without significance pervaded the world.
Cawdor, Robinson Jeffers