The angelic voice
Of boy or girl what does it matter
The ancient melody
In some forgotten Levantine mode
If an opera of Thebes had been made
In the time of Oedipus
The sphinx would have sung in that key

The song’s sinuous torturous beauty
The voice of boy or girl I cannot tell
Ah it’s a little girl who stands before me
But I’ve known this all before
The song ceases
She stands before me naked
Or as good as naked
But luminous and therefore not of earth
So bright I cannot make out
Her features or her sex

But how express much less account for
The panic dread she induces
And how delineate the strangeness
That death’s angel should come in the image
Of a shining child