Up from the bronze, I saw Water without a flaw Rush to its rest in air, Reach to its rest, and fall. Bronze of the blackest shade,

What body can be ploughed, Sown, and broken yearly? But she would not die, she vowed, But she has, nearly. Sing, heart sing;

The cold remote islands And the blue estuaries Where what breathes, breathes The restless wind of the inlets, And what drinks, drinks

This youth too long has heard the… Of waters in a land of change. He goes to see what suns can make From soil more indurate and strang… He cuts what holds his days togeth…

Now that I have your face by hear… Less at its features than its dark… Where quince and melon, yellow as… Lie with quilled dahlias and the s… Beyond, a garden, There, in insol…

Here, in the withered arbor, like… Straight sides, carven knees, Stands the statue, with hands flun… Or remonstrances. Over the lintel sway the woven bra…

I’ve come to give you fruit from o… Of wide report. I have trees there that bear me ma… Of every sort: Clear, streaked; red and russet; g…

We have struck the regions wherein… The wind breaks over us, And against high sharp angles almo… And these are of fear or grief. Like a ship, we have struck expect…

The landscape where I lie Again from boughs sets free Summer; all night must fly In wind’s obscurity The thick green leaves that made

Nothing was remembered, nothing fo… When we awoke, wagons were passing… The window-sills were wet from rai… Birds scattered and settled over c… As among grotesque trees.

She has attained the permanence She dreamed of, where old stones l… Untended stalks blow over her Even and swift, like young men run… Always in the heart she loved

Men loved wholly beyond wisdom Have the staff without the banner. Like a fire in a dry thicket Rising within women’s eyes Is the love men must return.

To me, one silly task is like anot… I bare the shambling tricks of lus… This flesh will never give a child… Song, like a wing, tears through m… And madness chooses out my voice a…

Now that I know How passion warms little Of flesh in the mould, And treasure is brittle,— I’ll lie here and learn