Classic Poem

I left her there in the rushes by the river,
Where the aspen leaves make a quiver—quiver—quiver—
And the breeze through the trees casts a silver shiver,
—I left her floating there.
She swore to die and I left her dead
For what I answered to what she said.
Was there anything I could have done instead?
—Oh, the bitter, bitter beauty of her hair!

For days I had heard the call of the town.
But there was no need for her to drown.
Oh, the bubbles that came up as she went down,
—And the creak of the displaced reeds!
Snakes of hair-strands mounting through the green,
Nosing past the reed-stems, catching in between,
And a pallid shadow like a sunken tambourine.
—Was it she I saw in the weeds?

My boat drew out and drifted away,
What was the need for me to stay?
A drowned body is but water-logged clay.
—I must pull for the night comes on.
But the water spurns the oars off as though it were ice,
The boat is held as if wedged in a vice.
A gull cries once, a gull cries twice,
—And a fog conceals the sun.

Red water-snakes with glimmering eyes
And bells on their tails, I see them rise
Here, there, everywhere. A swart crow flies
—Croaking toward the shore
And fastened to the snakes are pale strange things
With waving, weaving tentacles like arms, and rings
Clinging tight and tidily to misty pencillings.
—I have seen those rings before.

Not one face, alone, nor two, nor three,
But faces as many as the shells in the sea,
Their lank jaws trailing beside them crookedly.
—The river sighs and moans.
The tossing snakes are the hideous hair
Sprung from these heads. And the white eyes glare
At my boat stuck still in a musty air
—Jolted by the clatter of bones.

It's a lie! A lie! She wished to die,
Could any one have stopped her? There was no time to try.
But the whimpering air seems to jellify.
—My heart-beats slow and fail.
The bells on the snakes shrill an angelus.
The oily sky drips its yellow pus
Through the twilight—and I? You see me thus.
—A murderer locked in jail.

But all of every night and all of every day
I see her body with the rushes sway,
And the needles of the sun in the disarray
—Of her glorious, undulant hair.
Her face smiles at me through the cool, calm green
Of the water pool like a Florentine
Image set in lilies, but the lilies intervene.
—I cannot reach her there.

Farewell, loveliest, azure-lidded, parted
By your misunderstanding and my wrath.
——Ah, eager-hearted,
Prone to take offence at jests scarcely even started,
—There you lie with hope.
Both lost together at a single turn.
Water soaks your eyes and brain, mine only burn.
Jailer put the clock on, upset the urn,
—Be pitiful and hurry with the rope.