Can you not guess her secret,
you, with your gambler’s
view of heaven,
how she, being blind,
had not feared you
even as she moved
to and fro
across your hunting ground?
It seemed home to her
and press home she did,
wandering at her ease,
plucking poesy from your bounty,
living side by side
yet utterly divided.
(Was it not yourselves
who had done
the secret crime
and were now
being hunted for it?)