Like a flame that tosses and thrills
From crag to crag when the world of spirits is out,—
Is borne, as her rapture wills,
With glittering gesture and shout.
Now here in the darkness, now there,
From the rain-wild sweep of her hair,—
Bewilderingly volleyed o'er eyes and o'er lips,—
To the lambent swell of her limbs, her breasts and her hips,
She flashes her beautiful nakedness out in the glare
Of the tempest that bears her away,—