He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
The analysis of this poem is both plentiful and varied. I have nothing really to add except I happen to like it - the rhythm within the poem is quite beautiful but the ambiguous decisiveness of the last line is masterful. :)
The picture is Bruegel's Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (ca. 1558) - I was really looking for a closer pic of Icarus - but this seemed most relevant.