III

The black sky stretches to the pallid sea, As a false love and a dismantled heart. Empty of faith and eager to depart. He takes her yet once more, submissively, Against his lips, then, laughing, drifts away Swiftly within the dawning of the day.

Blindly she tosses up her foam-white hands, Crying for mercy, and the wind—her hair— Lashes the wide-sailed ships and leaves them bare. Blindly she hurls her rage against the sands. There, in the cold sky where her love had lain Scornful, aloof, the sun reviews her pain.