#AmericanWriters
The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light
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…
Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,
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
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us,
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…
Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent
So you have swept me back, I who could have walked with the l… above the earth, I who could have slept among the l… at last;
I should have thought in a dream you would have brought some lovely, perilous thing, orchids piled in a great sheath, as who would say (in a dream),
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
The white violet is scented on its stalk, the sea—violet fragile as agate, lies fronting all the wind
Hymen, O Hymen king, what bitter thing is this? what shaft, tearing my heart? what scar, what light, what fire searing my eye—balls and my eyes w…
Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone