Элис Хант Бартлетт (Alice Hunt Bartlett)

Depths

The sun is o’er the yard-arm and I dip
Through iridescent waters of the sea
To cool the fever of the noon, to be
New-made in crystal depths and softly slip
Down the deep tide’s pale green, ’til lip
And cheek and shoulder know the ecstasy,
Transforming, bodily, this self of me
And all life’s present weariness off-strip.

So turns the mind to Memory’s retreat
Transcendently, recovering at will—
. . . I see you in the noon-day sun, my sweet,
There in the glancing light, you smiling still,
And once again out-reaching hands we meet,
Again our cup of happiness we fill!

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