I

This weak and silken love that meshes me Break strand from strand, O branches of the hill! Brave wind that whips me breathless, tear me free! The witch’s cobweb clings and shivers still.

Now ferns there were, and fretted sun above: I plunged me where the silver water fell, But could not drown the little singing love-- The little love that murmured like a shell.

Swift, swift, to drink my freedom at its flood, I ran with flying feet and lips apart, But love was wilder than my leaping blood-- Ah, louder than the beating of my heart.