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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509005" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fire On The Hills</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=509005" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The deer were bounding like blown leaves<br>Under the smoke in front the roaring wave of the brush-fire;<br>I thought of the smaller lives that were caught.<br>Beauty is not always lovely; the fire was beautiful, the terror<br>Of the deer was beautiful; and when I returned<br>Down the back slopes after the fire had gone by, an eagle<br>Was perched on the jag of a burnt pine,<br>Insolent and gorged, cloaked in the folded storms of his shoulders<br>He had come from far off for the good hunting<br>With fire for his beater to drive the game; the sky was merciless<br>Blue, and the hills merciless black,<br>The sombre-feathered great bird sleepily merciless between them.<br>I thought, painfully, but the whole mind,<br>The destruction that brings an eagle from heaven is better than mercy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robinson+Jeffers">Robinson Jeffers</a></strong></div>

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