I.

　　Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost　　with quivering continual thighs invite　　the thrilling rain the slender paramour　　to toy with thy extraordinary lust,　　(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed　　steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour　　wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)　　-immortally whence are the high gods fled?

　　Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod　　significant to the ecstatic earth　　in token of his coming whom her soul　　burns to embrace-and didst thou know the god　　from but the imprint of whose cloven feet　　the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,　　at the mere echo of whose shining mirth　　the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

　　Wind beautifully who wanderest　　over smooth pages of forgotten joy　　proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers　　-didst e'er depart upon more exquisite quest?

　　and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell　　(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)　　among the curves of that delicious boy　　whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

　　Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian　　sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul　　whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm　　Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,　　whose lilied robe the sun's white hands emboss,　　betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm　　of intent stars circling the acerb pole　　poises,smiling,the diadumenos　　in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw　　their once again victorious Pantarkes　　(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold　　to imitate between the feet of awe),　　thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers　　its curls of unendured eternal gold　　over the infinite breast in bright degrees,　　whose pillow is the graces and the hours,　　father of gods and men whose subtle throne　　twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth　　caught to her brazen breasts,whose foot-stool tells　　how fought the looser of the warlike zone　　of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,　　lord on whose pedestal the deep expels　　(over Selene's car closing uncouth)　　of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous-　　are there no kings in Argos,that the song　　is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower　　within whose brightening strictness Danae　　saw the night severed and the glowing throng　　descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain　　of gradual hands and yielding to that fee　　her eager body's unimmortal flower　　knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

　　2.

　　And still the mad magnificent herald Spring　　assembles beauty from forgetfulness　　with the wild trump of April:witchery　　of sound and odour drives the wingless thing　　man forth in the bright air,for now the red　　leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly　　by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress　　ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

　　On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun　　with hooded day preening upon his hand　　followed by gay untimid final flowers　　(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun　　the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)　　while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,　　seeing green armies steadily expand　　hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

　　A silver sudden parody of snow　　tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!

　　the flicker's laughing yet,while on the hills　　the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw　　backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright　　sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills　　the unimaginable upward lark　　and drowns the earth and passes into light　　(slowly in life's serene perpetual round　　a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,　　hope richly scattered by the abundant sun　　invades the new mosaic of the ground　　-let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn　　surpassing nets are sedulously spun　　to snare the brutal dew,-the authentic scroll　　of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

　　Spring,that omits no mention of desire　　in every curved and curling thing,yet holds　　continuous intercourse-through skies and trees　　the lilac's smoke the poppy's pompous fire　　the pansy's purple patience and the grave　　frailty of daises-by what rare unease　　revealed of teasingly transparent folds-　　with man's poor soul superlatively brave.

　　Surely from robes of particoloured peace　　with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes　　and dim slow perfect body amorous　　(whiter than lilies which are born and cease　　for being whiter than this world)exhales　　the hovering high perfume curious　　of that one month for whom the whole years dies,　　risen at length from palpitating veils.

　　O still miraculous May!

O shining girl　　of time untarnished!

O small intimate　　gently primeval hands,frivolous feet　　divine!

O singular and breathless pearl!

　　O indefinable frail ultimate pose!

　　O visible beatitude sweet sweet　　intolerable!

silence immaculate　　of god's evasive audible great rose!

　　3.

　　Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed　　prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,　　curtained with wordless worship absolute,　　unto the certain altar at whose head　　stands that clear candle whose expecting breath　　exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,　　(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears　　complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

　　Now is the time when all occasional things　　close into silence,only one tree,one　　svelte translation of eternity　　unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,　　(whose million leaves in winsome indolence　　simmer upon thinking twilight momently)　　as down the oblivious west's numerous dun　　magnificence conquers magnificence.

　　In heaven's intolerable athanor　　inimitably tortured the base day　　utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,　　and from those tenuous fires which more and more　　sink and are lost the divine alchemist,　　the magus of creation,lifts a flower-　　whence is the world's insufferable clay　　clothed with incognizable amethyst.

　　Lady at whose imperishable smile　　the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings　　as if in terror of eternity,　　(or seeming that they would mistrust a while　　the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout　　that very proud transparent company　　of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings　　drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),　　queen in the inconceivable embrace　　of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands　　whereof is most desire,yet less than those　　twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,　　goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom　　or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,-　　having Discordia's apple in thy hands,　　which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom-　　O thou within the chancel of whose charms　　the tall boy god of everlasting war　　received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,　　betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms　　impaled upon delicious mystery,　　with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,　　deliberate groping ocean fondled o'er　　the warm long flower of unchastity,　　imperial Cytherea,from frail foam　　sprung with irrevocable nakedness　　to strike the young world into smoking song-　　as the first star perfects the sensual dome　　of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird　　transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong　　th ehearts of lovers!

-I beseech thee bless　　thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.

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