NYMPHS

The drift of shadows on the mountainside,

Blue and purple gold!

Purple dust sifting through fingers of ivory:

Cool purple on ivory breasts.

I see arms and breasts,

Upturned chins,

Slanting through the dust of purple leaves:

Ivory and gold,

Bare breasts and laughing eyes,

That drift on the shadowy surf

And surge against the side of the mountain.