#Americans #Imagist #Women
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
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
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),
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow—ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers,
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
Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone
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;
Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down
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,
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
