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

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…

Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure

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

Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down

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

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

Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,

Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,

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

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