(no subject)

[...]
The waves broke easy, cried to me in white;
Her look was morning in the dying light.

[...]
We danced to shining; mocked before the black
And shapeless night that made no answer back.

The world is for the living. Who are they?
We dared the dark to reach the white and warm.
She was the wind when wind was in my way;
Alive at noon, I perished in her form.
Who rise from flesh to spirit know the fall:
The word outleaps the world, and light is all.

-excerpt from Roethke's "Four for Sir John Davies," section IV.