Talk!
My friend and I lie on the cliffs of the Palisades …
And talk!

We have recovered one of the secrets of the Periclean Greeks,
The love of man for man which is rooted in the body
But raised into contactless talk …

It is enough to be together, to share one another in splendid speech,
To be like bodiless spirits together …

And such talk! Is it his gift or is it mine,
Or does the perfect friend-love strike open the very deeps in each other,
So that we are amazed to have the tang of the ages in our breath,
To issue forth art, recitatives of rhythmed speech …

Did the Mermaid hear such things? the Grove of Athens?
Did Goethe and Schiller speak thus together?
We have revealed, not ourselves to each other, but the race of men,
The panorama'd world, the cyclic histories,
And so, broken open, each goes home to his desk,
And snares echoes and overtones in verse and prose …
So we perform the office of the Logos for each other,
The divine impregnator,
And so, in bodiless love, we bear children to one another …

The wind of Spring blows over the Palisades,
The ruffled river sweeps far below down past the white tall city,
The grasses are sun-running, the bushes vibrate and crackle with the breeze,
Sparrows are chirping, steam goes up from the soil,
We lie side by side like belated Greeks, pulling on our pipes,
Talking, talking.