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,

Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,

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;

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…

From citron—bower be her bed, cut from branch of tree a—flower, fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, cut the width of board and lathe,

NOR skin nor hide nor fleece Shall cover you, Nor curtain of crimson nor fine Shelter of cedar—wood be over you, Nor the fir—tree

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,

YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through