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

Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,

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,