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O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air—
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
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…
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?
Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through
Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,
Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down
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;
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow—ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers,