Wings

GRAY gulls that wheeled and dipped and rose Where tossing crests like Alpine snows Would shimmer and entice; A stormy petrel, Judas soul, Dark wanderer of the waste, whose goal No mariner hath seen; And flaming from the vanished sun A wondrous wing vermilion, A bird of Paradise, A soaring wing that shone so far The orient horizon bar Flushed, and the sea between Like an Arabian carpet glowed With changeful hues where subtly flowed Some magical device; And one pale plume in heaven's dim dome Above that fairy-colored foam, The new moon's ghostly sheen.