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That now am caught beneath great buildings；
Stricken with noise； confused with light。
If I could hear the green piles groaning
Under the windy wooden piers；
See once again the bobbing barrels；
And the black sticks that fence the weirs；
If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls；
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead； of the wheeling gulls；
Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide；
Fear once again the rising freshet；
Dread the bell in the fog outside；
I should be happy；that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine！
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again！
I should be happy； that am happy
Never at all since I came here。
I am too long away from water。
I have a need of water near。
THE DEATH OF AUTUMN
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes；
And feathered pampas…grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward； tragic； thinned
Of half their tribe； and over the flattened rushes；
Stripped of its secret； open； stark and bleak；
Blackens afar the half…forgotten creek；
Then leans on me the weight of the year； and crushes
My heart。 I know that Beauty must ail and die；
And will be born again；but ah； to see
Beauty stiffened； staring up at the sky！
Oh； Autumn！ Autumn！What is the Spring to me？
ODE TO SILENCE
Aye； but she？
Your other sister and my other soul
Grave Silence； lovelier
Than the three loveliest maidens； what of her？
Clio； not you；
Not you； Calliope；
Nor all your wanton line；
Not Beauty's perfect self shall comfort me
For Silence once departed；
For her the cool…tongued； her the tranquil…hearted；
Whom evermore I follow wistfully；
Wandering Heaven and Earth and Hell and the four seasons through；
Thalia； not you；
Not you； Melpomene；
Not your incomparable feet； O thin Terpsichore；
I seek in this great hall；
But one more pale； more pensive； most beloved of you all。
I seek her from afar；
I come from temples where her altars are；
From groves that bear her name；
Noisy with stricken victims now and sacrificial flame；
And cymbals struck on high and strident faces
Obstreperous in her praise
They neither love nor know；
A goddess of gone days；
Departed long ago；
Abandoning the invaded shrines and fanes
Of her old sanctuary；
A deity obscure and legendary；
Of whom there now remains；
For sages to decipher and priests to garble；
Only and for a little while her letters wedged in marble；
Which even now； behold； the friendly mumbling rain erases；
And the inarticulate snow；
Leaving at last of her least signs and traces
None whatsoever； nor whither she is vanished from these places。
〃She will love well；〃 I said；
〃If love be of that heart inhabiter；
The flowers of the dead；
The red anemone that with no sound
Moves in the wind； and from another wound
That sprang； the heavily…sweet blue hyacinth；
That blossoms underground；
And sallow poppies； will be dear to her。
And will not Silence know
In the black shade of what obsidian steep
Stiffens the white narcissus numb with sleep？
（Seed which Demeter's daughter bore from home；
Uptorn by desperate fingers long ago；
Reluctant even as she；
Undone Persephone；
And even as she set out again to grow
In twilight； in perdition's lean and inauspicious loam）。
She will love well；〃 I said；
〃The flowers of the dead；
Where dark Persephone the winter round；
Uncomforted for home； uncomforted；
Lacking a sunny southern slope in northern Sicily；
With sullen pupils focussed on a dream；
Stares on the stagnant stream
That moats the unequivocable battlements of Hell；
There； there will she be found；
She that is Beauty veiled from men and Music in a swound。〃
〃I long for Silence as they long for breath
Whose helpless nostrils drink the bitter sea；
What thing can be
So stout； what so redoubtable； in Death
What fury； what considerable rage； if only she；
Upon whose icy breast；
Unquestioned； uncaressed；
One time I lay；
And whom always I lack；
Even to this day；
Being by no means from that frigid bosom weaned away；
If only she therewith be given me back？〃
I sought her down that dolorous labyrinth；
Wherein no shaft of sunlight ever fell；
And in among the bloodless everywhere
I sought her； but the air；
Breathed many times and spent；
Was fretful with a whispering discontent；
And questioning me； importuning me to tell
Some slightest tidings of the light of day they know no more；
Plucking my sleeve； the eager shades were with me where I went。
I paused at every grievous door；
And harked a moment； holding up my hand；and for a space
A hush was on them； while they watched my face；
And then they fell a…whispering as before；
So that I smiled at them and left them； seeing she was not there。
I sought her； too；
Among the upper gods； although I knew
She was not like to be where feasting is；
Nor near to Heaven's lord；
Being a thing abhorred
And shunned of him； although a child of his；
（Not yours； not yours； to you she owes not breath；
Mother of Song； being sown of Zeus upon a dream of Death）。
Fearing to pass unvisited some place
And later learn； too late； how all the while；
With her still face；
She had been standing there and seen me pass； without a smile；
I sought her even to the sagging board whereat
The stout immortals sat；
But such a laughter shook the mighty hall
No one could hear me say：
Had she been seen upon the Hill that day？
And no one knew at all
How long I stood； or when at last I sighed and went away。
There is a garden lying in a lull
Between the mountains and the mountainous sea；
I know not where； but which a dream diurnal
Paints on my lids a moment till the hull
Be lifted from the kernel
And Slumber fed to me。
Your foot…print is not there； Mnemosene；
Though it would seem a ruined place and after
Your lichenous heart； being full
Of broken columns； caryatides
Thrown to the earth and fallen forward on their jointless knees；
And urns funereal altered into dust
Minuter than the ashes of the dead；
And Psyche's lamp out of the earth up…thrust；
Dripping itself in marble wax on what was once the bed
Of Love； and his young body asleep； but now is dust instead。
There twists the bitter…sweet； the white wisteria
Fastens its fingers in the strangling wall；
And the wide crannies quicken with bright weeds；
There dumbly like a worm all day the still white orchid feeds；
But never an echo of your daughters' laughter
Is there； nor any sign of you at all
Swells fungous from the rotten bough； grey mother of Pieria！
Only her shadow once upon a stone
I saw；and； lo； the shadow and the garden； too； were gone。
I tell you you have done her body an ill；
You chatterers； you noisy crew！
She is not anywhere！
I sought her in deep Hell；
And through th