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

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,

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

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…

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,

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;

YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through

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

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

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,