IV
The song of the bird was wine in his blood,
And woman the odorous bloom:
His master’s great adventure stirred
Within him to mingle the bloom and bird,
And morn ere its coming illume.
V
Beside him strangely a piece of the dark
Had moved, and the undertones
Of a priest in prayer, like a cavernous wave,
He heard, as were there a soul to save
For urgency now in the groans.