D. H. Lawrence

IT is Isis the mystery

Must be in love with me.

Here this round ball of earth,

Where all the mountains sit

Solemn in groups,

And the bright rivers flit

Round them for girth:

Here the trees and troops

Darken the shining grass;

And many bright people pass

Like plunder from heaven:

Many bright people pass

Plundered from heaven.

But what of the mistresses,

What the beloved seven?

—They were but witnesses,

I was just driven.

Where is there peace for me?

It is Isis the mystery

Must be in love with me.