Page:Atalanta in Calydon - a tragedy (IA atalantaincalydo00swinrich).pdf/30

 The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, But the berried ivy catches and cleaves To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies.

What do ye singing? what is this ye sing?

Flowers bring we, and pure lips that please the gods, And raiment meet for service: lest the day Turn sharp with all its honey in our lips.

Night, a black hound, follows the white fawn day, Swifter than dreams the white flown feet of sleep; Will ye pray back the night with any prayers? And though the spring put back a little while Winter, and snows that plague all men for sin, And the iron time of cursing, yet I know Spring shall be ruined with the rain, and storm Eat up like fire the ashen autumn days. I marvel what men do with prayers awake Who dream and die with dreaming; any god, Yea the least god of all things called divine, Is more than sleep and waking; yet we say, Perchance by praying a man shall match his god.