II
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said:for ever and for ever, must I follow youthrough the stones?I catch at you--you lurch:you are quicker than my hand-grasp. I wondered at you.I shouted--dear--mysterious--beautiful--white myrtle-flesh. I was splintered and torn:the hill-path mountedswifter than my feet. Could a daemon avenge this hurt,I would cry to him--could a ghost,I would shout--O evil,follow this god,taunt him with his evil and his vice.
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