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?

Silver dust lifted from the earth, higher than my arms reach, you have mounted. O silver,

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

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

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

The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,

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

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),

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

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

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…