 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
93
ALCITHÖE
He cursed me on the instant as he stoodWith wreath, with thyrsus, on his lips my name,
A god, a messenger of dew and flame,
With daze and dancing trouble from the wood.
Before I knew, before I understood,
Trembling for love of him, in very shame
To tremble so, I gripped my broidery-frame,
And there fell over me a filmy hood.
The stealthy darkness! I am free of wing
As any bird, and yet I see no light;
No song is in my throat: my doom fulfils
As, in the smothering shades of evening,
I brush against the Mænads flitting white,
And startle the wild orgies on the hills.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |