Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down

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

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),

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

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,

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

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…

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

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

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