September 15

Lo! now thy swift dogs, over stone and bush,

After me, straying sheep, loud barking, rush.

There's Fear, and Shame, and Empty-heart, and Lack,

And Lost-love, and a thousand at their back!

I see thee not, but know thou hound'st them on,

And I am lost indeed—escape is none.

See! there they come, down streaming on my track!