The Bath
As might a centaur, man and beast in one,
Into the surf they plunge, naked and free;
Powdered with golden mist, they seem to be
Athletes of bronze aglow beneath the sun.
The rustic rider and wild stallion
Breathe in the briny odor thirstily,
And as they meet the chill surge of the sea
Through flesh and mane delicious shivers run.
The wave swells, rushes, rises like a wall,
Then breaks in foam. The bathers shout and neigh
And from the stallion's tail blue showers fly;
Mane streaming wild, he rears against the sky,
Then dark breasts cleave the billows as they fall
Whipped into frothing cataracts of spray.
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