From "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" by Wallace Stevens

Among twenty snowy mountains

The only moving thing

Was the eye of the blackbird.

. . .

Icicles filled the long window

With barbaric glass.

The shadow of the blackbird

Crossed it, to and fro

. . .

It was evening all afternoon.

It was snowing,

And it was going to snow.

The blackbird sat in the cedar-limbs.