Ah, the summer night!
The wind in the trees and the moonlight!
And my kisses on thy throat
And thy breathing in my hair!
Silent, lips to lips!
But our souls have held speech, thought answering echoing thought,
Though the only words were kisses.
THE BATHER.
I saw him go down to the water to bathe;
He stood naked upon the bank.
His breast was like a white cloud in the heaven,
that catches the sun;
It swelled with the sharp joy of the air.
His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches;
The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows:
With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind;
And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind.
I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful;
Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians;
They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory.
I know that women are beautiful, and that I am beautiful;
But the beauty of a man is so lithe and alive and triumphant,
Swift as the night of a swallow and sure as the
pounce of the eagle.
NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU.
I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night.
Her nightingales were singing in the trees
Beside the castled river; and the wind
Fell like a woman's fingers on my cheek.
And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change;
The night went on with me into my dream.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35