The Splendor Of Things

I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

-- Robinson Jeffers (1887 - 1962), American poet, "Love the Wild Swan" (1935)