Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel
One instant for her in my terrible flight.
Then the rushing of fire rose around me and under,
And the howling of beast like the sound of thunder,—
Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over,
As the passionate flame reached around them and wove her
Hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died,—
Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan,
As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone,
And into the Brazos I rode all alone—