Stylistic Ahalysis & Appreciation of the Poem "TheEye

The Atlantic is a stormy moat, and the Mediterranean, The blue pool in the old gardens, More than five thousand years has drunk sacrifice Of ships and blood and shines in the sun; but here the Pacific: The ships, planes, wars are perfectly irrelevant. Neither our present blood-feud with the brave dwarfs Nor any further world-quarrel of westering And eastering man, the bloody migrations, greed of power, battlefaleons, Are a mote of dust in the great scale-pan. Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland plunging like dolphin through the grey