Among the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of

brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July,

I read your heart in a book.

And your mouth of blue pansy—I know somewhere I have

seen it rain-shattered.

And I have seen a woman with her head Ang between her

naked knees, and her head held there listening to the

sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.

And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:

And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling

new shapes on the beach sand.