Wash of Cold River

Wash of cold river
In a glacial land,
Ionian water,
Chill, snow-ribbed sand,
Drift of rare flowers,
Clear, with delicate shell –
Like leaf enclosing
Frozen lily-leaf,
Camellia texture,
Colder than a rose;

That keeps the breath
Of the north-wind
These and none other;

Intimate thoughts and kind
Reach out to share
The treasure of my mind,
Intimate hands and dear
Drawn garden-ward and sea-ward
All the sheer rapture
That I would take
To mould a clear
And frigid statue;

Rare, of pure texture,
Beautiful space and line,
Marble to grace
Your inaccessible shrine.

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Wash of Cold River