Edward Estling Cummings, Crepuscule

I will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burn-
ing flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                     Alive
                                                            with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                   in the sleeping curves of my
body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                          Will I complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
         After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon