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He let me go, and, kneeling beside the rock, covered the wound with his mouth till the bleeding stopped. We were silent, he kneeling in the water, and I lying like the sacrifice on the altar-stone, the blue sky burning my eyes.
It seemed beautiful to me that Aphrodite should keep her girls like doves in a tall pine-tree, not lightly to be won; I pictured them waking in the dawn, and clothing their rosy limbs against the brisk air of morning, and going down to the mountain spring; girls like milk, like honey or like dark wine, presents to the Cyprian from every land under the sun.
The ribbons tied on him made him look like a bull going to sacrifice.
poppies splashed the barley-stubble with blood.
the iris pleated, like grey and brown silk catching the light.
shrewd like a mountain fox, who does nothing for show, and digs no earth without a second door.
a voice like dry grass brushed with the foot,
His hand opened; and, from a sky filled till then with great white stars, came a fall of snow. Cold as the breast of Artemis, and stinging like her arrows,
black night leaned down.
