Saw desert-men atone for ills
With frenzied hands, with wounds that gape,
—The hermits hidden in the hills
—The Herod in his Tyrian Cape.
From out our ship, held fast by gale,
We watched Andromeda's release;
Beheld the galleon in full sail
That flew the Golden Fleece.
Icarus, proud of his new power,
We saw stretch out his wings to fly.
We heard in that tremendous hour
The cry from Calvary.
Thus many things we understand
That puzzle landsmen: we can tell
Of perils in each time and land;
But outside Heaven or Hell
No fruit so strange we tasted save
But one; none cast so strange a spell
Except the fruit the first Eve gave
To the first man who fell.
THE DANCE
The song ends.
The rocking earth
Plunges madly
—Lunges like a man
About to fight.
Trees roll beckoning branches at us,
Branches that swing and sway.
From the forest
The animals
Howl
Like laughter.
With their burning scimiters
Flames slice the night.
Monotony,
A life preserved in ocean salt,
Scales off our limbs.
Within our veins
The liquor of this fruit-of-fire
Mounts in splendour inexhaustible.
The world itself
Dances
To make us dance
In cosmic frenzy.
WHY SHOULD A SAILOR RIDE THE SEA?
Why should a sailor ride the sea,
When he can drink and dance and sing,
Or watch the stars out-blossoming
Upon the tree of night?