PURSUIT
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hat do I carethat the stream is trampled,the sand on the stream-bankstill holds the print of your foot:the heel is cut deep.I see another markon the grass ridge of the bank--it points toward the wood-path.I have lost the thirdin the packed earth. But herea wild-hyacinth stalk is snapped:the purple buds--half ripe--show deep purplewhere your heel pressed. A patch of flowering grass,low, trailing--you brushed this:the green stems show yellow-greenwhere you lifted--turned the earth-sideto the light:this and a dead leaf-spine,split across,show where you passed. You were swift, swift!here the forest ledge slopes--rain has furrowed the roots.Your hand caught at this;the root snapped under your weight. I can almost follow the notewhere it touched this slender treeand the next answered--and the next. And you climbed yet further!you stopped by the dwarf-cornel--whirled on your heels,doubled on your track. This is clear--you fell on the downward slope,you dragged a bruised thigh--you limped--you clutched this larch. Did your head, bent back,search further--clear through the green leaf-mossof the larch branches? Did you clutch,stammer with short breath and gasp:_wood-daemons grant life--give life--I am almost lost._ For some wood-daemonhas lightened your steps.I can find no trace of youin the larch-cones and the underbrush.
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