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…

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

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;

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

I first tasted under Apollo’s lip… love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs b…

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),

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

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

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

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,

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