Gatherer of all clouds, Zeus Horkios,
The sun beats upon me as I carry
Tree limbs from a maple you killed last night.
If ever I dared, I would seek counsel
At your table, and after wine darkened
Your beard and I had charmed white-armed Hera,
You would consent to hear my blasphemy.
-I think on the nature of the Hydra,
Nameless in the waters of deep Lerna.
No! I have sinned so grievously against
Honor, I deserve this grisly hair-shirt,
If not the Tunic of Nessus Himself!
Though cut unfathomably by your hand,
A flower like a lover lived beneath
Leafy branches steel had not yet severed,
But, oh, shame of my haste, evil of man,
Green wood cut by my hands fell in a crash
And I wiped the sweat away from my eyes
To see that the blossom, pink as sunsets,
Had lost its stem and now was bleeding red
And everywhere the ants were swarming pain
And every living thing saw I had sinned.
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