The Buzzards Wheel Slowly In Wide Circles, In A Sky Faintly Hazed As From Dust From The Road. And A Wind Sweeps Through The Pasture Where I Lie Beating The Grass Into Long Waves. My Kite Is Above The Wind, Though Now And Then It Wobbles, Like A Man Shaking His Shoulders; And The Tail Streams Out Momentarily, Then Sinks To Rest. And The Buzzards Wheel And Wheel, Sweeping The Zenith With Wide Circles Above My Kite. And The Hills Sleep. And A Farm House, White As Snow, Peeps From Green Trees - Far Away. And I Watch My Kite, For The Thin Moon Will Kindle Herself Ere Long, Then She Will Swing Like A Pendulum Dial To The Tail Of My Kite. A Spurt Of Flame Like A Water-Dragon Dazzles My Eyes - I Am Shaken As A Banner.