III
Over the desert ocean of distress
We reach pale eager hands that quiver and bleed
With life of these our hearts that surge and stress
In agony of the mediated deed.
For in the little coppice by the gate
Wherein I drew you shy and sly, and kised
Your lips, your hushed "I love you" smooth and straight
Sweeping to wrap us in the glittering mist
Of hell that holds us—even there I heard
The lacerating laugh of fate ring out,
The dog-faced god pronounce the mantic word,
And saw the avengers gather round about
Our love. The Mairae neither break nor bend;
The Erinyes hunt us to—no happy end.
We reach pale eager hands that quiver and bleed
With life of these our hearts that surge and stress
In agony of the mediated deed.
For in the little coppice by the gate
Wherein I drew you shy and sly, and kised
Your lips, your hushed "I love you" smooth and straight
Sweeping to wrap us in the glittering mist
Of hell that holds us—even there I heard
The lacerating laugh of fate ring out,
The dog-faced god pronounce the mantic word,
And saw the avengers gather round about
Our love. The Mairae neither break nor bend;
The Erinyes hunt us to—no happy end.
— 5 —
