OORANGE and olive and glossed bay-tree,And air of the evening out at sea,And out at sea, on the steep warm stone,A little bare diver poising alone.Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves,Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves,“I am!” he cries to his glorying heart,And unto he knows not what: “Thouart!”He leaps, he shines, he sinks, he is gone:He will climb to the golden ledge anon.Perfecter rite can none employ,When the god of the isle is good to a boy.
OORANGE and olive and glossed bay-tree,And air of the evening out at sea,And out at sea, on the steep warm stone,A little bare diver poising alone.Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves,Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves,“I am!” he cries to his glorying heart,And unto he knows not what: “Thouart!”He leaps, he shines, he sinks, he is gone:He will climb to the golden ledge anon.Perfecter rite can none employ,When the god of the isle is good to a boy.
OORANGE and olive and glossed bay-tree,And air of the evening out at sea,And out at sea, on the steep warm stone,A little bare diver poising alone.
O
ORANGE and olive and glossed bay-tree,
And air of the evening out at sea,
And out at sea, on the steep warm stone,
A little bare diver poising alone.
Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves,Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves,“I am!” he cries to his glorying heart,And unto he knows not what: “Thouart!”
Flushed from the cool of Sicilian waves,
Flushed as the coral in clean sea-caves,
“I am!” he cries to his glorying heart,
And unto he knows not what: “Thouart!”
He leaps, he shines, he sinks, he is gone:He will climb to the golden ledge anon.Perfecter rite can none employ,When the god of the isle is good to a boy.
He leaps, he shines, he sinks, he is gone:
He will climb to the golden ledge anon.
Perfecter rite can none employ,
When the god of the isle is good to a boy.