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

NOR skin nor hide nor fleece Shall cover you, Nor curtain of crimson nor fine Shelter of cedar—wood be over you, Nor the fir—tree

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you have swept me back, I who could have walked with the l… above the earth, I who could have slept among the l… at last;

Can we believe—by an effort comfort our hearts: it is not waste all this, not placed here in disgust, street after street,

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