Here you will find the Poem Coitus of poet Ezra Pound
The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, Giulio Romano, Fit for your spirit to dwell in. Dione, your nights are upon us. The dew is upon the leaf. The night about us is restless.
