In rose with petals soft as air I bind for you the tides and fire — the death that lives within the flower, oh, gladly love, for you I bear.
Intent on one great love, perfect, Requited and for ever, I missed love's everywhere Small presence, thousand-guised.
Strangers have crossed the sound, but not the sound of the dark oarsmen Or the golden-haired sons of kings, Strangers whose thought is not formed to the cadence of waves, Rhythm of the sickle, oar and milking pail
Poem The Ancient Speech
He has married me with a ring, a ring of bright water Whose ripples spread from the heart of the sea, He has married me with a ring of light, the glitter Broadcast on the swift river.