With all the sea for drink and food
Would you believe we lived on blood,
That 'with the leagues
his
tongue grew rude?
Who doubts that my hair turned white with brine?
The table a-tilt, we sat to dine,
We had each other's blood like wine.
"Honor," he said, blessed with that art,
"Binds me to this wrecked vessel's heart.
I thought the gods planned another part."
PETEY PASSES
0, no more to turn the light cloud as we go;
No more explore the face of youth,
Smiling and frowning, into sun and breeze:
Ruth Stone
Boy, moving with slouched abandon over the winnowing dunes,
Shouting, tree-trunk-brown,
Beckoning and roistering at the charge and sparkle of the seas.
As
each wave rushes from its famous origin, the wind,
Framing in splendid lace the spinning strand-
The forward-pouring waters are like love.
Hold the moment, crystalline; now he lies, brown limbs,
Baked in cleanliness and salt, hot from the sun's kissing;
Curled embryonic, his cheek against the singing sand,
Drowsing out the afternoon;
Or, on two seconds, wild awake, when girls' voices,
Wafted on the summerseason, play at
his
youth's strings, like music.
He
turns sensually within,
And then, with faun's smile and sudden grace,
He's up-away
For those mysterious sessions of young discovering.
