Wash of Cold River by Hilda Doolittle
Wash of cold river in a glacial land, Ionian water, chill, snow-ribbed sand, drift of rare flowers, clear, with delicate shell- like leaf enclosing frozen lily-leaf, camellia texture, colder than a rose;
wind-flower that keeps the breath of the north-wind -- these and none other;
intimate thoughts and kind reach out to share the treasure of my mind, intimate hands and dear drawn garden-ward and sea-ward all the sheer rapture that I would take to mould a clear and frigid statue;
rare, of pure texture, beautiful space and line, marble to grace your inaccessible shrine.
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