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417 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1983
From the sea you came, my prince, my Mordred.
You escaped the fay with the long hair that tosses on the waves.
You came from her sister, the sea-queen
Who eats drowned sailors, who draws the boats
Down into deep waters.
You came to the land, to be prince of the land,
And you will grow, grow, grow. . . .
Then the rain, and the creak of rowlocks, and the sound of women’s weeping fading into the lapping of the lake water and the hiss of the rain falling.
His cheek was on a cushion of thyme. The rain had washed the blood away, and the thyme smelled sweetly of summer.
The waves lapped. The oars creaked. The seabirds cried. A porpoise rolled, sleek in the sun. Away on the horizon he could see the golden edge of the kingdom where, since he was a small child, he had always longed to go. (pp. 404-5)