Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BEAKS OF EAGLES, by ROBINSON JEFFERS



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BEAKS OF EAGLES, by             Poem Explanation     Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: An eagle's nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
Subject(s): Birds; Eagles


I
The beaks of eagles
are sharp, all eagles are strong,
But it takes more than a tall, dark,
feathered body and great wings
to make the metaphor fly.
I have seen eagles too,
but not like these: a golden
eastern day was dying, the moon
Climbing the ancient skyline,
an eagle floated in the middle air
Motionless over the whole valley,
against the whole scene, A
pillar of the last light
Gilded his golden feathers
Bright as gold. A moment the incredible
frozen hawk hung there,
Taking the whole valley,
the dusk, the moonrise,
at last nightfall letting himself drop,
Dropping with closed wings
Noiselessly, motionless,
Like a death descent,
Down to the jagged rocks
On the canyon floor,
A river of the mountain
Glistening below.
So it is, our minds are like these eagles
Whose instinctive skill glides
over the whole continent.
We swoop into thought.
Our talons tear at the prey of reason,
Our power is in our eyes.
II
The eagle is the symbol
of our land, and of more than land,
of a continent that feeble men
break and deride, but cannot conquer.
He has chosen the mountain
with his eye on the sea,
so shall we choose the mountain
and be secure. The gray sea
is not tamed yet, is not a pasture
for mariners, and it is said
that only now and then a man is born
who is fit to sail on it,
born too early or too late.
Many have been born too early,
they know the sea is dangerous,
what was the name of that Phoenician
who had himself tied to the mast?
— and so our minds are like ships
in the night, the sailor ignorant
of stars and compass, at the mercy of the wind.
III
The eagle screams,
the eagle is the cry of the soul.
It calls us out of night
To seize the bright sword.
The eagle watches us from his mountain,
His eagerness is fierce, he is never cloyed.
We are his creatures, our hearts are his,
As we flinch and fret in our corners
He drives us to the sky.
Not by resignation, the fashion of cowards,
Not by evasion will he save us.
The uttermost way is the only way,
The way of eagle and the way of man.
He drives us to the extremity
Where we snap the chains and fly.
IV
Why should men be afraid of the sea?
The sea is a great mother, her sons
Are many, her daughters are beautiful.
She has many voices,
Many languages, but her song
Is simple and the same in all.
She sings of men in ships,
And we must answer her song,
For we are born to the sea.
The stars move in their courses,
The moon is a pirate ship,
Wrapped in a veil of fog,
Tacking across the waves.
The sea moves in its bed
And the mountains move in theirs,
And men move over the continents
In great wheels of migration.
V
The claws of eagles
are sharp, all eagles are strong,
But it takes more than a tall, dark,
feathered body and great wings
to make the metaphor fly.
Eagles have the mountain as their own,
And we have what we wish for.
We have the power to destroy
And the power to forget.
We have forged a civilization
That threatens the life of the planet.
We must remember our origins
As eagles remember theirs,
And renew ourselves in the womb
Of the sky and the earth and the sea.






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