In The Wet Dusk Silver-Sweet, Down The Violet Scented Ways, As I Moved With Quiet Feet I Was Met By Mighty Days. On The Hedge The Hanging Dew Glassed The Eve And Stars And Skies; While I Gazed A Madness Grew Into Thundered Battle Cries. Where The Hawthorn Glimmered White, Flashed The Spear And Fell The Stroke-- Ah, What Faces Pale And Bright Where The Dazzling Battle Broke! There A Hero-Hearted Queen With Young Beauty Lit The Van. Gone! The Darkness Flowed Between All The Ancient Wars Of Man. While I Paced The Valley'S Gloom Where The Rabbits Pattered Near, Shone A Temple And A Tomb With The Legend Carven Clear: 'Time Put By A Myriad Fates That Her Day Might Dawn In Glory. Death Made Wide A Million Gates So To Close Her Tragic Story.'