I was crashing on the earth —
Oh! I fell headlong to the moss, and I lay without motion,
As the woodman,
As the whistling woodman,
As the free and careless woodman,
Rent from me my emerald shield, and made me bare
As a bird just emerged from its shell.
And then he shaped me into a thick stick,
A thick white stick, with his wood-knife,
And carried me to the village store,