THE BATHER.

I saw him go down to the water to bathe; He stood naked upon the bank.

His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches; The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows:

With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind; And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind.

I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful; Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians; They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory.