Now the stealthy sunrise hoverer
Hangs like a long hawk-shadow over the sea;
And now the wings of doves whir stealthily,
Shaking shadowy water as they whir.
Let earthworms tunnel in their cool closets, stir
Tremendously in the dew; let the blunt bee
Nose buckets of damp gold. . . . What is that to me?
What is beauty without an interpreter?
Egypt — and no Rosetta Stone to read
The mockery of the sphinx; Dante in Dis
Stark blind without the eyes of Beatrice;
A spring dawn twittering, dripping bead after bead
Of fire: and I without your love as dumb
As any clock without its pendulum.