The Fugitive[ToC]
When she returned to the clouded land,
She held sweet flowers in her hand;
Her eyes were bright
With a beaming light
That none could understand.
Said they: Where, sister, hast thou been?
What hidden glory hast thou seen?
What magic sod
Has thy white foot trod;
What song-filled groves of green?
Said she: I followed across the plain
To the gates of Love, to the gates of Pain:
By one, by two,
All the rest went through:
But I came back again....