I was drowned in the forest,
So deep and dull.
Where filtered no light that was blessed from the sun
And yet I was on the run.
Flowers there don’t blossom
Nor did my pale heart drum.
For no different was I than Mephistopheles
And was a beast that bore no feelings.

Memory had deceived me of my spring,
A time that time had timed away from my rhyme.
A little a dull dream I no often had
Of light and flies and lies and cries.
Cries, Oh! Cries! Ah! Cries!
Had I not cried would the forest have died?
Reason would tell it all but no sharp mind had I.

Walk had moved me onto the rocks,
And then to the river of smoke had I gone.
The vinous smell of which
Lumbered me into a deep slumber.

In sleep I saw Dante the man
At whose side stood Beatrice for whom he was mad.
I who knew nothing of groom and bride,
Glared my pearls onto the Anglophile that then did land.
Pierced he his mighty hands into the air;
Who under his command turned dust to there.
At him I screamed to know it all,
And answered he to ‘Speak low if you speak love’.
Pointed he his silhouette to the deity and uttered:
‘She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed,
She’s a woman, and therefore to be won’.

What sorcery had I witnessed!
For I heard my heart to bump and drum!
Sweet was the stream that filled my canals,
Where the fiery fluid of life now flows.
Fresh became the air that I drew there,
And a soothe deep blessed was in me.


Baptised was I then as human
Invited me then merry men to their den.
Oh! The smile I bore on my lips
For would witness I the kind to which I belonged.
Eagerness sprung out o’ my spirit
For soon with my tribe I will be with.