Lighthearted I walked 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.T. E. Hulme, 1883 – 1917