Reclining. Tell me not of it! Hark ye, lad⁠—fleet interlacings of the limbs⁠—lithe swayings⁠—coyings⁠—flutterings! lip! heart! hip! all graze: unceasing touch and go! not taste, observe ye, else come satiety. Eh, Pagan? Nudging.

Tahitan sailor .

Reclining on a mat. Hail, holy nakedness of our dancing girls!⁠—the Heeva-Heeva! Ah! low veiled, high palmed Tahiti! I still rest me on thy mat, but the soft soil has slid! I saw thee woven in the wood, my mat! green the first day I brought ye thence; now worn and wilted quite. Ah me!⁠—not thou nor I can bear the change! How then, if so be transplanted to yon sky? Hear I the roaring streams from Pirohitee’s peak of spears, when they leap down the crags and drown the villages?⁠—The blast! the blast! Up, spine, and meet it! Leaps to his feet.