for Turner Cassity.
Sealed into the cocoon
Of light and water, face
And racked reflection, voice
And the nymph Echo answering, the grub
Narcissus throbs at high noon. Slapping
Languidly, the rocked
Wave on the bridge-piers means a speedboat passes
A half of a mile and all of a minute away,
Tensed for the seaway. Ah Narcissus, ah
Dreamboat of self! In Amsterdam the brick,
So I am told, abides no pulse but yours!