But these are not the words I had in mind. Those I’d imagined pulsed with subtle light; These fit like sculpted stone, apt of design, But grounded, not quite capable of flight.

Should I then wait her pleasure, she who stints, Content to learn a patience that I lack? Or shall I, like Deucalion gathering flints, Collect dead words and cast them to my back,

Hoping by sweat and dogged diligence To wrest from her the gift she will not give. Is it enough to strive for sound and sense, Trusting the words to rise at last, and live?

Coy, she flees whenever I pursue; I’ll turn my back – what else is there to do?

"Erato Oversleeps Again" refers to Deucalion, the Greek Noah, who after a universal flood was told to gather stones and throw them over his back. As they struck the earth they sprang to life as living men and women.