ROETHKE, Theodore
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Elegy for Jane
    
      
    
      
    (My student, thrown by a horse)
    
      
    
      
    I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
    
      
    And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
    
      
    And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
    
      
    And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
    
      
    
      
    A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
    
      
    Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
    
      
    The shade sang with her;
    
      
    The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
    
      
    And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.
    
      
    
      
    Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
    
      
    Even a father could not find her:
    
      
    Scraping her cheek against straw,
    
      
    Stirring the clearest water.
    
      
    
      
    My sparrow, you are not here,
    
      
    Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.
    
      
    The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
    
      
    Nor the moss, wound with the last light.
  
    If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
    
      
    My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
    
      
    Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
    
      
    I, with no rights in this matter,
    
      
    Neither father nor lover.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    Snake
    
      
    
      
    I saw a young snake glide
  
Out of the mottled shade
And hang, limp on a stone:
A thin mouth, and a tongue
    Stayed, in the still air.
    
      
    
      
    It turned; it drew away;
  
Its shadow bent in half;
    It quickened and was gone
    
      
    
      
    I felt my slow blood warm.
  
I longed to be that thing.
    The pure, sensuous form.
    
      
    
      
    And I may be, some time.
    
      
    
      
    
      
    The Waking
    
      
    
      
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.   
  
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
    I learn by going where I have to go. 
    
      
    
      
    We think by feeling. What is there to know?   
  
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. 
    
      
    
      
    Of those so close beside me, which are you?   
  
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
    And learn by going where I have to go. 
    
      
    
      
    Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?   
  
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
    I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. 
    
      
    
      
    Great Nature has another thing to do   
  
To you and me; so take the lively air,
    And, lovely, learn by going where to go. 
    
      
    
      
    This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.   
  
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.