The sea flecks up clouds to where cloud banks stack,
the clouds rain seas into the sea below;
above the storm, borne on a breezeless flow,
the albatross drifts on its calm, bright track:
it hears far off the hurricane’s wild chase –
galloping through great troughs that dip and lift –
of lightning-folk who, keen to spoil this drift,
around the wave-tops let their torch-dance race;
it glimpses at a cloud-shaft’s bottom edge
the world-sea hammering, a white-green sledge;
and mainlands snap off at its pitch and toss...
above a double sea of clouds and ocean
pricked through with dancing torches, in slow motion
and steady sunlight drifts the albatross.