I said: for ever and for ever, 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 daemon 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GREEN SYMPHONY by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER TO LIZBIE BROWNE by THOMAS HARDY THE DEATH OF LYON by HENRY PETERSON A RONDEL OF LUVE [LOVE] by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) ON THE MANTLEPIECE by JAMES LANE ALLEN A BERKSHIRE HOLIDAY by CLIFFORD BAX THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS by JAMES BEATTIE |