Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?

White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,

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 saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,

Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone

Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent

Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,

Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,

Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us,

The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light