Ii

I said: Forever and forever must I follow you Through the stones? I catch at you--you lurch. You are quicker than my hand-grasp.

I wondered at you. I shouted--dear--mysterious--beautiful-- White myrtle-flesh.

I was splintered and torn. The hill-path mounted Swifter than my feet.

Could a dæmon avenge this hurt, I would cry to him--could a ghost, I would shout--O evil, Follow this god, Taunt him with his evil and his vice.