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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

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;

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