1 hill
wide up the ways
from the foot
in a dark wood

there is a mangy
old leopard blocks
my path to make

up into where there
from which
all surrenders come

and hand not makes
but breaks;
and all lips are lovely dumb

. (i wonder where not which
this glad and homely even stitch
such rouge perhaps to be
in golden morn and noontide's lee)

for there is borne upon its breast
that wager which we all must test;
not known but leapt
–from where within–
the leaping that old Denmark guessed.

and walked by nine for harsh travail
rings that cut at entered nail;

O this guide is poet made
who meets me in that sullen glade
and pulls me forth towar' deeper paths
where life is still and sin is paid.