The leaves flashed darkly though there was not much wind,
It went and came; the water broke brightly over the rocks
And the wind and the light and the water made him feel half
blind
So that perhaps something of what he saw he mistook.
He must have been mistaken, of course: the sun on brown flesh,
Blond hair, dark hair, the water breaking, its chatter and roar,
The heat of his diamond-dusted rock, the ripple and flash,
Were not unnatural. But what happened was odd and clear.
The whole weight dropped suddenly away—the mind, the
knowledge,
Love, heavy love, was gone completely, and identity.
There was left the mountain-water, the bathers, the foliage;
The trees gripped down, swept up, and over stood the sky..
It only lasted a minute, of course—more was not to be hoped:
Whatever had been disrupted shot back in its groove.
But there was the moment, or minute, or pause. He had slipped
Free of knowlege; he had been rid of pity, cleansed of love.
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