Then they saw on the stone her tally,
And they shook their heads ... “Look here! Look here!
Oh it’s very very plain she is queer ... mad queer!”
And they took her away on that self-same day,
Though she fought till she lay half-dead.
Now all she had written on the smooth gray stone
Were the strange magic things (O the deep blue wings!)
That happen in a wild, singing wood.
But they said “She hasn’t lived as a virgin should ...
When she dies she shall lie on the hill for good.”