The Bathers
by Hart Crane
Two ivory women by a milky sea;—
The dawn, a shell's pale lining restlessly
Shimmering over a black mountain-spear:—
A dreamer might see these, and wake to hear,
But there is no sound,—not even a bird-note;
Only simple ripples flaunt, and stroke, and float,—
Flat lily petals to the sea's white throat.
They say that Venus shot through foam to light,
But they are wrong…. Ere man was given sight
She came in such still water, and so nursed
In silence, beauty blessed and beauty cursed.