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From “Primapara”
ONE cherry tree beside the house in this low field | |
| Is yellow and bright-colored now. Several weeds | |
| Are full of brown seed, and the ground is drying out hard. | |
| What is not picked, now, in the garden, will never be picked. | |
| In this fall, by this garden of gray stems and seeds | 5 |
| I sit in what dusty grass is left, and words | |
| Come in groups, like floss upon the pale green water. | |
| They concern the gypsy girl, fat with child, and sickly | |
Complexioned, who, I think, made me offers.
Her long black hair | |
| And yellow face above the pale green water at nightfall. | 10 |
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| The gypsy girl was sallow, as if with nightfall, | |
| Paler looking because of the necklace of red beads, | |
| And because of her rings and bracelets of heavy silver. | |
| There was a silk scarf, green and yellow, upon her hair, | |
| Her most dark and heavy hair, bound at the back in small | 15 |
| Silver bands, all heavy; and light-colored and green silk | |
| Was her bright dress, which was stretched with her young one | |
| So that its pattern shaped into big ungodly flowers. | |
| She came through the short willows; she came beside me | |
| Smiling as if a crowd were watching her from the weeds. | 20 |
| “What is not picked, now, in the garden, will never be picked,” | |
I say, before this garden.
I felt her child’s heart beating, | |
| And, for thinking of that heart and of her lover, | |
| The “Come, there is some good place near,” and the feel of her hand, | |
| I would not answer. This which might have dispersed | 25 |
| The many girls who have appeared to me sleeping, | |
I would not consent to.
It was that. I say to the sand, | |
| Nevertheless, as if to one person: “Dear love, departed, | |
| Can some season not freshen us? I am disheartened; | |
| Are there many like the dark girl? are there many like me?” | 30 |
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| But what is not picked now in the garden will never be picked. | |
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