[M. H. Poynter]
Gulls at Sunset
In from the sunset west,
With sunset tints on wing and snowy breast,
Rose-coloured sky above, rose-coloured earth below,
To some far rocky gorge, hidden and cold and grey,
Leaving the pageant of departing day,
Circling and sweeping out to the night they go.
Blue is the distant east
Blue as a shadowland where life has ceased—
Unhesitating wings speed on the lonely flight.
Out to that cloudy east, taking the sea-gulls' way,
My heart turns also from the hues of day,
Out to the confines of the blue waiting night.
They hung but phantom things, unnoticed, grey,
Under grey skies, forerunner of night mist.
But while we slept
Closer the white mist round about us crept,
See how they glisten, decked with many a gem,
Each strand a jewelled rope. The world seems full of them,
Clinging to bush and fence and grassy stem.