A time of drought had sucked the weedy pool
And baked the channels; birds had done with song.
Thirst was a dream of fountains in the moon
Or willow-music blown across the water
Leisurely1 sliding on by weir2 and mill.
Uneasy was the man who wandered brooding
His face a little #CCCCFFr than the dusk.
A drone of sultry wings flickerd in his head.
The end of sunset burning thro the boughs3
Died in a smear4 of red; exhausted5 hours
Cumberd and ugly sorrows hemmed6 him in.
He thought: Somewhere theres thunder as he strove
To shake off dread7; he dared not look behind him
But stood the sweat of horror on his face.
He blunderd down a path trampling8 on thistles
In sudden race to leave the ghostly trees.
And: Soon Ill be in open fields he thought
And half remembered starlight on the meadows
Scent9 of mown grass and voices of tired men
Fading along the field-paths; home and sleep
And cool-swept upland spaces whispering leaves
And far off the long churring night-jars note.
But something in the wood trying to daunt10 him
Led him confused in circles through the thicket11.
He was forgetting his old wretched folly12
And freedom was his need; his throat was choking.
Barbed brambles gripped and clawed him round his legs
And he floundered over snags and hidden stumps13.
Mumbling14: I will get out! I must get out!
Butting15 and thrusting up the baffling gloom
Pausing to listen in a space twixt thorns
He peers around with peering frantic16 eyes.
An evil creature in the twilight17 looping
Flapped blindly in his face. Beating it off
He screeched18 in terror and straightway something clambered
Heavily from an oak and dropped bent19 double
To shamble at him zigzag20 squat21 and bestial22.
Headlong he charges down the wood and falls
With roaring brainagonythe snapt spark
And blots23 of green and purple in his eyes.
Then the slow fingers groping on his neck
And at his heart the strangling clasp of death.