I lost my lamp and went astray. I ran about
asking one after another to stop the bleeding of my wound. God is good.
After eight years, _she wants me, and I must go to her._
"I love her, as I have always loved; for she is always there, and I have
come back. She can never change, though her beauty grow graver, and all
knowledge of the vile usage of the world have passed before her young
eyes. Artemis no more, for she has stooped to the lot of women; but still
invincibly pure, incapable of sin, though she know it all. It can never
touch her; she goes her way. She wears a blue gown now, not a white one.
Demeter, the sad, bountiful Mother she will be--yet the same woman, the
sweet and grave, the inflexible, the eternal. And, standing as she has
always stood, _she wants me, and I must go to her._
"I remember the wonder, I remember the morning glory of her first
appearing. The spell of the woods was upon her. Bare-headed, gowned in
white, she girt up her vesture and dipped her white limbs in the pool. I
went to her, all my worship in my face; I worked with her at her task.
Together we pulled the weed, we set the lilies free. High-minded as a
goddess, she revealed herself to me.
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