Thus to sea god,
gift of sea wrack;
I, Hermonax, offer it
to thee, Ino,
and to Palemon.
Orion Dead
(Artemis speaks.)
THE cornel-trees
uplift from the furrows,
the roots at their bases,
strike lower through the barley-sprays.
So arise and face me.
I am poisoned with the rage of song.
I once pierced the flesh
of the wild deer,
now I am afraid to touch
the blue and the gold-veined hyacinths?
I will tear the full flowers
and the little heads
of the grape-hyacinths,
I will strip the life from the bulb
until the ivory layers
lie like narcissus petals
on the black earth.
Arise,
lest I bend an ash-tree
into a taut bow,
and slay—and tear
all the roots from the earth.
The cornel-wood blazes
and strikes through the barley-sprays
but I have lost heart for this.
I break a staff,
I break the tough branch.
I know no light in the woods.
I have lost pace with the wind.