But lo, he touched the mischance and life ran straight!
Was it the storm-spirit, storm’s pilot,
With all the heaving débris of Noah’s sunken days
Dragged on his loins;
Law’s spirit wandering to us
Through Nature’s anarchy,
Wandering towards us when the Titans yet were young?
Perhaps Moses and Buddha he met.
[She speaks aloud.]
The shadow of these pomegranate boughs