I saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,

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

Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,

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

Are you alive? I touch you. You quiver like a sea—fish. I cover you with my net. What are you —banded one?

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

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

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

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 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),