Of snow leaped up far off on the plain
Of sparkling dust and died again),
For what do the cloisters know, think ye,
Of women's ways? They be hard to see.
Again the voice cried, "Kin of my kin,
The child of the Sun shall win, shall win!"
'Twas an evil weird that so befell;
Yet I leaned and drank of the bubbling well.
I looked for my face in the crystal spring,
But the face that flickered there was a thing