Two Pewits
UNDER the after-sunset skyTwo pewits sport and cry,More white than is the moon on highRiding the dark surge silently;More black than earth. Their cryIs the one sound under the sky.They alone move, now low, now high,And merrily they cryTo the mischievous Spring sky,Plunging earthward, tossing high,Over the ghost who wonders whySo merrily they cry and fly,Nor choose 'twixt earth and sky,While the moon's quarter silentlyRides, and earth rests as silently.
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