Another Dark Lady

Think not, because I wonder where you fled,

That I would lift a pin to see you there;

You may, for me, be prowling anywhere,

So long as you show not your little head:

No dark and evil story of the dead

Would leave you less pernicious or less fair—

Not even Lilith, with her famous hair;

And Lilith was the devil, I have read.

I cannot hate you, for I loved you then.

The woods were golden then. There was a road

Through beeches; and I said their smooth feet showed

Like yours. Truth must have heard me from afar,

For I shall never have to learn again

That yours are cloven as no beech’s are.