28

O come and go. You, still almost a child,

with your spell transform for an instant

the dance figure, make it one of those pure

constellations in which we fleetingly

transcend dull ordering Nature. For she was roused

to full hearing only when Orpheus sang.

You were still swayed by those ancient chords

and a bit annoyed if a tree took stock

before it followed where your hearing led.

You still knew the place where the lyre

rose resounding—: the undreamt-of center.

For it you practiced those beautiful steps

and hoped one day to turn toward

pure happiness your friend’s face and stride.