About his path, hell-blue or staring white.
5
Stab! Stab! Blast all at once. What’s he to fear?
Look there—that cedar shrivelling in swift blight
Even where he stood! And there—ah, that came near!
Oh, if some shaft would break his soul outright,
What ease so to unload and scatter quite
On the darkness this wild beating in his skull,
Too burning to endure, too tense and full.