IX. Young Man's Song

'She will change,' I cried.

'Into a withered crone.'

The heart in my side,

That so still had lain,

In noble rage replied

And beat upon the bone:

'Uplift those eyes and throw

Those glances unafraid:

She would as bravely show

Did all the fabric fade;

No withered crone I saw

Before the world was made.'

Abashed by that report,

For the heart cannot lie,

I knelt in the dirt.

And all shall bend the knee

To my offended heart

Until it pardon me.