By the thunder,

By the iron thunder of the sea!

THE FISH-HAWK

On the large highway of the awful air that flows

Unbounded between sea and heaven, while twilight screened

The sorrowful distances, he moved and had repose;

On the huge wind of the Immensity he leaned

His steady body in long lapse of flight—and rose

Gradual, through broad gyres of ever-climbing rest,