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;

Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,

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,

The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,

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

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…

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

Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us,

Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?

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…

Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,

White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,

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…