Who was there had seen us Wouldn't bid him run?
Heavy lay between us All our sires had done.
There he was, a-springing Of a pious race,
Setting hags a-swinging In a market-place;
Sowing turnips over Where the poppies lay;
Looking past the clover, Adding up the hay;
Shouting through the Spring song, Clumping down the sod;
Toadying, in sing-song, To a crabbed god.
There I was, that came of Folk of mud and name-I that had my name of Them without a name.
Up and down a mountain Streeled my silly stock;
Passing by a fountain, Wringing at a rock;
Devil-gotten sinners, Throwing back their heads,
Fiddling for their dinners, Kissing for their beds.
Not a one had seen us Wouldn't help him flee.
Angry ran between us Blood of him and me.
How shall I be mating Who have looked above-Living for a hating, Dying of a love?
