#AmericanWriters
O wind, rend open the heat, cut apart the heat, rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop through this thick air—
Rose, harsh rose, marred and with stint of petals, meagre flower, thin, sparse of leaf, more precious
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
White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,
All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives where she stands, and the white hands.
The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light
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,
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,
Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,
I have had enough. I gasp for breath. Every way ends, every road, every foot-path leads at last to the hill-crest—
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…
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
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;
Crash on crash of the sea, straining to wreck men; sea—boards… raging against the world, furious, stay at last, for against your fur… and your mad fight,