<p>424. LINES WRITTEN IN OREGON
<a l:href="#c_453"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>Esmeralda! Now we restHere, in the bewitched and blestMountain forests of the West.Here the very air is stranger.Damzel, anchoret, and rangerShare the woodland's dream and danger.And to think I deemed you dead!(In a dungeon, it was said;Tortured, strangled); but instead —Blue birds from the bluest fable,Bear and hare in coats of sable,Peacock moth on picnic table.Huddled roadsigns softly speakOf Lake Merlin, Castle Creek,And (obliterated) Peak.Do you recognize that clover?Dandelions,
I'or du pauvre?[17](Europe, nonetheless, is over).Up the turf, along the burn,Latin lilies climb and turnInto Gothic fir and fern.Cornfields have befouled the prairiesBut these canyons laugh! And there isStill the forest with its fairies.And I rest where I awokeIn the sea shade —
l'ombre glauque[18]—Of a legendary oak;Where the woods get ever dimmer,Where the Phantom Orchids glimmer —Esmeralda,
immer, immer.[19]<20 июня> 1953<p>425. ODE TO A MODEL
<a l:href="#c_454"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>I have followed you, model,in magazine ads through all seasons,from dead leaf on the sodto red leaf on the breeze,from your lily-white armpitto the tip of your butterfly eyelash,charming and pitiful,silly and stylish.Or in kneesocks and tartanstanding there like some fabulous symbol,parted feet pointing outward— pedal form of akimbo.On a lawn, in a parodyOf Spring and its cherry tree,near a vase and a parapet,virgin practicing archery.Ballerina, black-masked,near a parapet of alabaster.«Can one — somebody asked —rhyme „star“ and „disaster“?»Can one picture a blackbirdas the negative of a small firebird?Can a record, run backward,turn «repaid» into «diaper»?Can one marry a model?Kill your past, make you real, raise a family,by removing you bodilyfrom back numbers of Sham?<8 октября> 1955
