55 
 
 
 
 
 
THE HAWK AND THE BABE 
 
I THAT am an hawk of gold 
 Proud in adamantine poise 
 On the pillars of torquoise, 
See, beyond the starry fold 
Where a darkling orb is rolled. 
 
There, beneath a grove of yew, 
 Plays a babe.  Should I despise 
 Such a foam of gold, and eyes 
Burning berylline, so blue 
That the sun seems peeping through ?   
 
Did I swoop, were Heaven amazed ?   
 With my beak I strike but once ;   
 Out there leap a million suns. 
Through the universe that blazed 
Screams their light, and death is dazed. 
 
In my womb the babe may leap ;   
 Seek him not within mine eye !   
 Nor demand thou of me why 
I should plunge from crystal steep 
Like a plummet to the deep !