The Prelude

Let us have a light bring.
Come in an hour shade,
and begin softly with
daylight—   like the labor of fruit,   that holds the color of May, this void shall not fail,   for it contains summer’s breath—   green landscapes burst,   out of emotion.

Here open the dark water, sound it once! Breathe deeply the mild of trees, sweetened and smooth, and nothing in August, has ever sat, till my colored hands blink a shadowed motion of flesh. Yield your breath, through the frame of stone, the sense that is hidden, shall light on our mouths.

Come softly, sweet man! The quiet flower places on my palm, we shall learn all that is hidden, flower placed and encased in dew, to dream beyond here, in clear darkness.

Give it strength to prevail, b beginning bright, shell the day onto the dry fragments of skin— reach nature objects, colors found on even, late light may stain, voices louder in drift.

Let the drops roll on thin skin—you listen, without sound, let winds come to you, they rise above, from all our moods and thoughts, right softly, unseen.

Purple is rare, that is clear, yet here replace there, let distance come over our souls. I shall never tire, norcould I die, ever when daylight fairs to strong fragrances— the essence to become us.

Glorified touch brings us, peace! Fill in the fast march, pool it gently— hesitate into our day—
one flower will lead, out of water. The boat!

• HD Hilda Doolittle