II Small is This white stream, From the poplar-shaded hill; But the water is sweet. Apples on the small trees Are hard, Too small, Too late ripened By a desperate sun That struggles through sea-mist. The boughs of the trees Are twisted By many bafflings; *Twisted are The small-leafed boughs. But the shadow of them Is not the shadow of the mast-head Nor of the torn sails. Hermes, Hermes, The great sea foamed, Gnashed its teeth about me; But you have waited, Where sea-grass tangles with Shore-grass. ORCHARD I saw the first pear As it fell. The honey-seeking, golden-banded, The yellow swarm, Was not more fleet than I, Whirl up, sea OREAD Whirl your pointed pines. Splash your great pines On our rocks. Hurl your green over us— Cover us with your pools of fir. THE GARDEN I You are clear, O rose, cut in rock; Hard as the descent of hail. I could scrape the color Like spilt dye from a rock. If I could break you I could break a tree. If I could stir I could break a tree I could break you. II O wind, rend open the heat, Cut apart the heat, Rend it to tatters. Fruit cannot drop Through this thick air; That presses up and blunts The points of pears, Cut the heat: Plough through it, Turning it on either side Of your path. MOONRISE Will you glimmer on the sea? What note shall we pitch? We have a song, On the bank we share our arrows The loosed string tells our note: O flight, Bring her swiftly to our song. She is great, We measure her by the pine-trees. THE SHRINE "She watches over the sea" I Are your rocks shelter for ships? Have you sent galleys from your beach? Are you graded, a safe crescent, Where the tide lifts them back to port? Are you full and sweet, Tempting the quiet To depart in their trading ships? Nay, you are great, fierce, evil You are the land-blight. But they perished on your cliffs. |