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

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…

Hymen, O Hymen king, what bitter thing is this? what shaft, tearing my heart? what scar, what light, what fire searing my eye—balls and my eyes w…

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

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

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,

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

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

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

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

Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,