THE BATHER.

I saw him go down to the water to bathe;

He stood naked upon the bank.

His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches;

The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows:

With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind;

And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind.

I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful;

Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians;

They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory.