Oh wind-swept towers,
   Oh endlessly blossoming trees,
   White clouds and lucid eyes,
   And pools in the rocks whose unplumbed blue is pregnant
   With who knows what of subtlety
   And magical curves and limbs—
   White Anadyomene and her shallow breasts
   Mother-of-pearled with light.
 
   And oh the April, April of straight soft hair,
   Falling smooth as the mountain water and brown;
   The April of little leaves unblinded,
   Of rosy nipples and innocence
   And the blue languor of weary eyelids.
 
   Across a huge gulf I fling my voice
   And my desires together:
   Across a huge gulf ... on the other bank
   Crouches April with her hair as smooth and straight and brown
   As falling waters.
   Oh brave curve upwards and outwards.
   Oh despair of the downward tilting—
   Despair still beautiful
   As a great star one has watched all night
   Wheeling down under the hills.
   Silence widens and darkens;
   Voice and desires have dropped out of sight.
   I am all alone, dreaming she would come and kiss me.

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