My soul is a thing of little worth unto God:
Of less worth unto thee, O Curithir, than my love.
And unto me so small I flung it beneath thy feet.
IV
If the dark earth hold a Power that is not God
I pray It to bind up memory lest I die.
There was a day when Curithir loved me, now it is gone.
It was I that sundered his love from me, I myself;
Or it was God who struck me with madness and mocked.
If the dark earth hold a Power that is not God