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| Blue Scrub Jay, on a Jushua Tree, Mojave Desert |
As a violet's gentle eye
Gazes on the azure sky,
Until it's hue grows like what it beholds;
As a grey and empty mist
Lies like solid Amethyst,
Over the western mountain it enfolds,
When the sunset sleeps
Upon it's snow.
As a strain of sweetest sound
Wraps itself the wind around,
Until the voiceless wind be music too;
As aught dark, vain and dull,
Basking in what is beautiful,
Is full of light and love.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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