He smiles in a mirror, shrinking the whole
Sun-swung zodiac of light to a trinket shape
On the rise of his eye: it is a role
In which he can fling a cape,
And outloom life like Faustus. But once when
On an empty mountain slope
A black goat clattered and ran
Towards him, and set forefeet firm on a rock
Above and looked down
A square-pupilled yellow-eyed look
The black devil head against the blue air,
What gigantic fingers took
Him up and on a bare
Palm turned him close under an eye
That was like a living hanging hemisphere
And watched his blood’s gleam with a ray
Slow and cold and ferocious as a star
Till the goat clattered away.