Conversion / T.E. Hulme

Conversion
Lighthearted I walked into the valley wood In the time of hyacinths, Till beauty like a scented cloth Cast over, stifled me. I was bound Motionless and faint of breath By loveliness that is her own eunuch.

Now pass I the final river Ignominiously, in a sack, without a sound, As any peeping Turk to the Bosphorous.