Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn,
More coiled steel than living - a poised
Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs
Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a 
    bounce, a stab
Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing. 
No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states,
No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and 
    stab 
And a ravening second.

Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained 
Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats
Gives their days this bullet and automatic
Purpose? Mozart's brain had it, and the shark's mouth
That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its 
    own 
Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which
Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it
Or obstruction deflect. 

With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback, 
Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk, 
Carving at a tiny ivory ornament
For years: his act worships itself - while for him,
Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and 
    above what
Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils 
Orgy and hosannah, under what wilderness 
Of black silent waters weep.