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

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

Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone

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,

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…

Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,

I saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,

Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,

Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent

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;

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