#Americans #Imagist #Women #FreeVerse #Imagery
The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light
Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
O be swift— we have always known you wanted us… We fled inland with our flocks. we pastured them in hollows, cut off from the wind
I saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,
The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,
Thou art come at length More beautiful Than any cool god In a chamber under Lycia’s far coast,
Where the slow river meets the tide, a red swan lifts red wings and darker beak, and underneath the purple down
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,
Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent
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…
You are clear O rose, cut in rock, hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the colour from the petals
Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,
YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
