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Mountain Pines
Robinson Jeffers


In scornful upright loneliness they stand,

Counting themselves no kin of anything

Whether of earth or sky. Their gnarled roots cling

Like wasted fingers of a clutching hand

In the grim rock. A silent spectral band

They watch the old sky, but hold no communing

With aught. Only, when some lone eagle's wing

Flaps past above their grey and desolate land,

Or when the wind pants up a rough-hewn glen,

Bending them down as with an age of thought,

Or when, 'mid flying clouds that can not dull

Her constant light, the moon shines silver, then

They find a soul, and their dim moan is wrought

Into a singing sad and beautiful.


This poem is in the public domain.



Robinson Jeffers (1887 - 1962) was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but moved with his family to California as a young teen. Studying first literature, then medicine, then forestry, a small inheritance finally allowed Robinson to turn his attention to poetry, with a side occupation as a stonemason. As a committed outdoorsman, much of Robinson's work centered around the wild beauty of nature.



Post New Comment:
A beautiful flowing poem.Thanks
Posted 07/14/2015 07:19 PM
That was two new words for me. Petrarchan & enjambment. Thx bbatcher
Posted 07/14/2015 03:40 PM
Posted 07/14/2015 10:02 AM
Jeffers, an early environmentalist, is a local hero. Thanks for including him. See
Posted 07/14/2015 09:49 AM
A well-executed Petrarchan sonnet. His background in forestry and love of the outdoors shines through each carefully crafted line. His use of enjambment keeps the poem flowing like a lone eagle gliding by without stopping.
Posted 07/14/2015 07:34 AM
Wilda Morris:
So skillfully constructed. The end rhymes are important, but the "aught," "thought" and "wrought" rhyme weaves its own magic and holds it all together.
Posted 07/14/2015 06:16 AM
Posted 07/14/2015 02:08 AM

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