#Americans #Imagist #Women
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
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,
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
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
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…
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),
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
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
Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us,
