That faced the gateway; and in passing he

Had glimpsed her beauty. It was she. And then

He thought how she had haunted him for days,

For weeks; and how, returning to Caerleon,

His long quest ended, how it thus befell:

Deep snow had fallen and the winter wood

Lay carpeted with silence. And he rode

Into a vista where a raven lay

Slain of a hawk; some blood-drops dyed the snow.

He lost himself in quaint comparisons