and women waste fair moments

gathering lint and pricking coloured stuffs

to mar their breasts,

while she, adored,

wastes not her fingers,

worn of fire and sword,

wastes not her touch

on linen and fine thread,

wastes not her head

in thought and pondering,

Love, why have you sought the horde

of spearsmen, why the tent

Achilles pitched beside the river-ford?

[37]

[37]

THE WHOLE WHITE WORLD

The whole white world is ours,

and the world, purple with rose-bays,

bays, bush on bush,

group, thicket, hedge and tree,

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