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

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

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

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…

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,

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…

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

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,

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

Whirl up, sea— whirl your pointed pines, splash your great pines on our rocks, hurl your green over us,

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