Page:Harlem Shadows (1922).djvu/118



My spirit wails for water, water now!

My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot

For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,

Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.

My hungry body's burning for a swim

In sunlit water where the air is cool,

As in Trout Valley where upon a limb

The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.

Oh water, water, when the night is done,

When day steals gray-white through the window-pane,

Clear silver water when I wake, alone,

All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;

Pure water from a forest fountain first,

To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!