And in the wood were waitings, and the shriek
Of startled shapes, that blindly smote the dark
With sudden snappings, careless of all path
So they but fled ; and on the ways by day
Were all strange footprints, where no foot had trode ;
And uncouth shapes, that vanished from the sight
As soon as seen, stood out from bush to bush.
Or peered between the tree-stems rampantly ;
Till life became a horror for the shapes —
But nothing saw she, or nought cared for it.
There came a day the loud winds failed, and fell ;
And all was quiet, for a clinging mist
That writhed, had crept till all the woods were hid
In its pale wreathings ; and my heart was blithe.
Because the woods had rest : and forth I went
To drench my hot flesh in the dripping mist.
And drink its coolness. Forth I went, and strayed.
And wandered, watching how the white folds drew
About the glistening trees, whose boughs began



254 George Kett

To shed their headings. There, to me that watched,

Borne on the silvern bendings of the mist,

Yea, close beside me spake a whispering voice,

" What doest thou here ? " At once I turned, to find

Whence was the whispering voice, and if for me.
Or for another. So, from forth the mist.
Thrice came that question, " Wherefore art thou

here ? "
But though I looked, nought living might I see ;
And, save me, none regarded.
While I watched.
