and the ripple on the sand-shelf

will be witness of your track.

[32]

O privet-white, you will paint

the lintel of wet sand with froth.

You will bring myrrh-bark

and drift laurel-wood from hot coasts!

when you hurl high—high—

we will answer with a shout.

For you will come,

you will come,

you will answer our taut hearts,

you will break the lie of men's thoughts,

and cherish and shelter us.

[33]

[33]

ACON

I

Bear me to Dictaeus,

and to the steep slopes;

 Prev. P 46/64 next