When Life Was A Cobweb Of Stars For Beauty Who Came In The Whisper Of Leaves Or A Bird'S Lone Cry In The Glen, On Dawn-Lit Hills And Horizons Girdled With Flame I Sought For The Triumph That Troubles The Faces Of Men. With Death In The Terrible Flickering Gloom Of The Fight I Was Cruel And Fierce With Despair; I Was Naked And Bound; Was Stricken: And Beauty Returned Through The Shambles Of Night; In The Faces Of Men She Returned; And Their Triumph I Found.