These moon-struck syllables she utters
Draw as the moon the angry waters
Arching in foam on lonely beaches
Beyond all ships, all birds, all reaches.
Remember by these the mouth of her;
Foresee the fugitive pale sphere;
By fragmentary skies conjure
The girl binding up her hair.
She was quiet, having little
To do with the unquiet flame,
As leaves relinquishing and brittle —
None will ever speak her name.
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