There is a thing that all my bones believe --
it is as real to me as every bone:
taut, in a ring of snarling beasts of prey,
far off, a man stands maddened and alone.
Weaponless, I will journey down the dark,
carrying him the green and silver word --
I will not speak it here. It is for him.
The beasts will lie down at his feet when he has heard.
p. 21
