From yew to yew: who dares to stoop
Where those dank branches overdroop,
Into his heart the chill strikes up,
He hears a silent gliding coil,
The snakes strain hard against the soil,
His foot slips in their slimy oil,
And toads seem crawling on his hand,
And clinging bats but dimly scanned
Full in his face their wings expand.
A paleness took the poet's cheek:
"Must I drink here?" he seemed to seek
The lady's will with utterance meek:
"Ay, ay," she said, "it so must be;"
(And this time she spake cheerfully)
"Behoves thee know World's cruelty."
He bowed his forehead till his mouth
Curved in the wave, and drank unloth
As if from rivers of the south;
His lips sobbed through the water rank,
His heart paused in him while he drank,
His brain beat heart-like, rose and sank,
And he swooned backward to a dream
Wherein he lay 'twixt gloom and gleam,
With Death and Life at each extreme:
And spiritual thunders, born of soul
Not cloud, did leap from mystic pole
And o'er him roll and counter-roll,
Crushing their echoes reboant
With their own wheels. Did Heaven so grant
His spirit a sign of covenant?