The root of cedar tree.

The blue and green design
Of sky and budding leaves,
The joyous song that in the sun
A golden ladder weaves.

When soil is wet and warm
And smells of the new rain,
When frogs accost the evening
With their recurrent strain,

Then damn me if you dare.
I know how you will call,
But this time I will laugh and run,
Nor look at you at all.

Or, if you will, go walking
With immortality,
But never shall you once forget
The syllables of me.

Paris, 1919


VI

Two black deer uprise
In ghostly silhouette
Against the frozen skies,