[ 65 ]

Once when they found me, some refrain ‘Quoi faire?’

Striking my hands, they say repeatedly

I muttered; although I could hear and see

I knew no one.—I am silent in my chair,

And stronger and more cold is my despair

At last, for I have come into a country

Whose vivid Queen upon no melody

Admits me. Manchmal glaub ich, ich kann nicht mehr.

Song follows song, the chatterer to the fire

Would follow soon . . Deep in Ur’s royal pits

Sit still the courtly bodies, a little bowl

By each, attired to voluntary blitz . .

In Shub-ad’s grave the fingers of a girl

Were touching still, when they found her, the strings of her lyre.