He Mourns for the Change that has Come upon Him and His Beloved and Longs for the End of the World
| Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns? |
| I have been changed to a hound with one red ear; |
| I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns, |
| For somebody hid hatred and hope and desire and fear |
| Under my feet that they follow you night and day. |
| A man with a hazel wand came without sound; |
| He changed me suddenly; I was looking another way; |
| And now my calling is but the calling of a hound; |
| And Time and Birth and Change are hurrying by. |
| I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West |
| And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky |
| And lay in the darkness, grunting, and turning to his rest. |
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