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O be swift— we have always known you wanted us… We fled inland with our flocks. we pastured them in hollows, cut off from the wind
Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,
Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,
Stars wheel in purple, yours is no… as Hesperus, nor yet so great a st… as bright Aldeboran or Sirius, nor yet the stained and brilliant… stars turn in purple, glorious to…
I first tasted under Apollo’s lip… love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs b…
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow—ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers,
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
You are clear O rose, cut in rock, hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?