Thomas Ernest Hulme

Conversion

Lighthearted I walk 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 to the final river
Ignominiously, in a sack, without sound
As any peeping Turk to the Bosphorus.