Time brought no remedy, for still he was troubled by the absence of
sympathy, and the repression of that human feeling which yet clung like a
curse to him.
"For the haunters of fields, they all shunned me by flight,
The men in their horror, the women in fright:
None ever remained, save a child once that sported
Among the wild blue bells, and playfully courted
The breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay
Tight strangled, because it had hissed him away
From the flower at his finger; he rose and drew near
Like a son of immortals, one born to no fear,
But with strength of black locks, and with eyes azure bright,
To grow to large manhood of merciful might,
He came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel
The hair of my side and to lift up my heel,
And questioned his face with wide eyes, but when under
My lids he saw tears,--for I wept at his wonder,
He stroked me, and uttered such kindliness then,
That the once love of women, the friendship of men
In past sorrow, no kindness, e'er came like a kiss
On my heart in its desolate day, such as this
{130}
And I yearned at his cheeks in my love, and down bent
And lifted him up in my arms with intent
To kiss him--but he cruel--kindly alas!
Held out to my lips a plucked handful of grass!
Then I dropped him in horror, but felt as I fled,
The stone he indignantly hurled at my head,
That dissevered my ear, but I felt not, whose fate,
Was to meet more distress in his love his hate!"