Now I do, though.”
She permitted hands
To smooth, to cool her as she lay in fever,
And as the pain returned; while Artemis
Looked gravely, out of eyes she kept in shadow,
At the small face whereon the truth had fallen;
Looked, and wondered fearfully. Had Hermes,
Had Gabriel heard the horses? Found the man?
But Aphrodite was there first—an ancient
Gypsy, rising out of the dim road