Gross, sensual faces herded; and then you
With magical wide eyes came. Eyes that kept
The mirth of dews at dawn in them, and slept
To the tumult of the street. They held the blue,
Sweet, flowering spaces under pines; and knew
Cropped lawns, where naked dryads dancing leapt
To the clash of golden cymbals, while there crept
Furtively on white bellies through the dew,
To glut on grace, ambiguous fauns, whose eyes
Burned glittering with desire: until the horn
Of the moon turned ashen; and through the still trees
The lithe shapes feed: and dawn brimmed up the skies
With winey gold, and walked upon the corn;
And murmuring through the vines came gleaming bees.
HURLEYWAYNE
For M. S.
Such cool peace as fills
Green solitudes with trembling light at eve,
Fresh after summer thunder: and thin leaves
Stir gleaming, and grow still; then the green light
Alone moves, pulsing in pooled air, that shakes
No more with sound. Quiet brims full; then break
As dropping rain hurrying elfin feet,
A silvery foam of sound blown as white spray,
Sparkling with great bright bubbles: no sound to sense,
Bright foam upon blue pools of quiet tossed:
And a sight of waven manes that gleam
Shaken in the twilight under luminous leaves;
And challenging fairy horns that invite to the chace
Gay, light o’ heart. And the galloping host,
Winding their horns, rush by as wind in the grass,
Shimmering; and the horns from afar ring out,
Farther and farther away.
TO SÀÏ
You chase the blue butterflies,
The shining dew is shaken by your feet,
That are white in the young grasses;
Swift, you hesitate, poised;
And they elude you; fluttering
In the windless gold.