Voyages VI
Where icy and bright dungeons lift Of swimmers their lost morning eyes,
And ocean rivers, churning, shift Green borders under stranger skies,
Steadily as a shell secretes Its beating leagues of monotone,
Or as many waters trough the sun's Red kelson past the cape's wet stone; 0 rivers mingling toward the sky And harbor of the phoenix' breast My eyes pressed black against the prow, -Thy derelict and blinded guest Waiting, afire, what name, unspoken I cannot claim: let thy waves rear More savage than the death of kings,
Some splintered garland for the seer.
Beyond siroccos harvesting The solstice thunders, crept away,
Like a cliff swinging or a sail Flung into April's inmost day- Creation's blithe and petalled word To the lounged goddess when she rose Conceding dialogue with eyes That smile unsearchable repose- Still fervid covenant,
Belle Isle, -Unfolded floating dais before Which rainbows twine continual hair Belle Isle, white echo of the oar!
The imaged Word, it is, that holds Hushed willows anchored in its glow.
It is the unbetrayable reply Whose accent no farewell can know.
Harold Hart Crane
Other author posts
Voyages II
—And yet this great wink of eternity, Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings, Samite sheeted and processioned Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,
Quaker Hill
Perspective never withers from their eyes; They keep that docile edict of the Spring That blends March with August Antarctic skies: These are but cows that see no other thing Than grass and snow, and their own inner being Through the ric...
Voyages V
Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime, Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though cast Together in one merciless white blade- The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits -As if too brittle or too clear to touch The cables of our sle...
Fear
The host, he says that all is And the fire-wood glow is bright; The food has a warm and tempting smell,-But on the window licks the night Pile on the logs