But I, ere they could spring up the first stage,
Went forth to meet them;
And they bound my wrists.
And so, down from the hills, my life has flowed,
Until, at fullest flood, it meets the sea.
With calm and unregretful heart, I wait
Till dawn shall loose the arrow from the bow.
I, who, with eager, faltering hand have sought
To fashion a little beauty, in the end,
Have looked on the perfect beauty, and I die--