#Americans #Imagist #Women
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
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;
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,
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow—ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers,
Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,
Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,
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…
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?
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
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
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—
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
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…