Archaic Bust Of Apollo by Delmore Schwartz
(After Rilke)
We cannot know the indescribable face Where the eyes like apples ripened. Even so, His torso has a candelabra's glow, His gaze, contained as in a mirror's grace,
Shines within it. Otherwise his breast Would not be dazzling. Nor would you recognize The smile that moves along his curving thighs, There where love's strength is caught within its nest.
This stone would not be broken, but intact Beneath the shoulders' flowing cataract, Nor would it glisten like a stallion's hide,
Brimming with radiance from every side As a star sparkles. Now it is dawn once more. All places scrutinize you. You must be reborn.
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