This northern sky
.
Lord, I have loved Your sky,
Be it said against or for me,
Have loved it clear and high,
Or low and stormy
.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie -
.
Glory be to God for dappled things
for skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow
.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky
.
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
. It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
.
I turned and looked back up at the sky,
Where we still look to ask the why
Of everything below.
.
The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary
.
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.
.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table
.
The sky is silent too,
Hard as granite and as fixed as fate.
.
And over all the sky — the sky! far, far out of reach, studded, breaking out, the eternal stars.
.
Slowly the night blooms, unfurling
Flowers of darkness, covering
The trellised sky, becoming
A bouquet of blackness.
