- Book: Arrow Music BY [Bryher].
- Poem: IN SYRIA
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Girls, not a spear, once held my tent,
Circassian arm and Thracian wrist
moulded a shield of cream and bronze.
A queen was glad because I praised
her carven, turquoise eyes and kissed
her navel, (white, smooth poppy-leaf.)
Her unforced lip, narcissus-red,
flowered into kisses, as night went.
Corinthian dancers held the thongs
of strained roof-linen, overhead.
Now with no sword at my command,
I perish in a bitter land.