we no longer

sleep in the wind,

propitiate us.

Chant in a wail

that never halts,

pace a circle and pay tribute

with a song.

When the roar of a dropped wave

breaks into it,

pour meted words

of sea-hawks and gulls

and sea-birds that cry

discords.

[14]

[14]

THE GIFT

Instead of pearls—a wrought clasp—

a bracelet—will you accept this?

You know the script—

you will start, wonder:

 Prev. P 20/64 next