Leda

Hymen (1921)

Where the slow rivermeets the tide,a red swan lifts red wingsand darker beak,and underneath the purple downof his soft breastuncurls his coral feet.

Through the deep purpleof the dying heatof sun and mist,the level ray of sun-beamhas caressedthe lily with dark breast,and flecked with richer goldits golden crest.

Where the slow liftingof the tide,floats into the riverand slowly driftsamong the reeds,and lifts the yellow flags,he floatswhere tide and river meet.

Ah kingly kiss —no more regretnor old deep memoriesto mar the bliss;where the low sedge is thick,the gold day-lilyoutspreads and restsbeneath soft flutteringof red swan wingsand the warm quiveringof the red swan’s breast.

from Hymen (1921)