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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…
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…
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
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,
Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious
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 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),
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…
Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear—head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song,
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
I saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,
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
You are clear O rose, cut in rock, hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals