#Americans #Imagist #Women #FreeVerse #Imagery
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent
Crash on crash of the sea, straining to wreck men; sea—boards… raging against the world, furious, stay at last, for against your fur… and your mad fight,
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?
The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,
Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious
You are clear O rose, cut in rock, hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow—ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers,
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
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
