The man of Tyre

The man of Tyre went down to the sea

pondering, for he was Greek, that God is one and all alone

and ever more shall be so.

And a woman who had been washing clothes in the pool of rock

where a stream came down to the gravel of the sea and sank in,

who had spread the white washing on the gravel banked above the bay,

who had lain in her shift on the shore, on the shingle slope,

who had waded to the pale green sea of evening, out to a shoal,

pouring sea-water over herself

now turned, and came slowly back, with her back to the evening sky.

Oh lovely, lovely with the dark hair piled up, as she went

deeper, deeper down the channel, then rose shallower, shallower

with the full thighs slowly lifting of the wader wading shorewards

and the shoulders pallid with light from the silent sky behind

both breasts dim and mysterious, with the glamorous

kindness of twilight between them

and the dim blotch of black maidenhair like an indicator

giving a message to the man -

So in the cane-brake he clasped his hands in delight

that could only be god-given, and murmured:

Lo! God is one god! But here in the twilight

godly and lovely comes Aphrodite out of the sea

towards me!