descending in the west. "Sweet earth," he sighed, "you would hold me
when I should be gone, and never remind me that the moment to depart
is due." And he stretched out his arms to her, sealed up his lips,
and went into the Ring.

Once more he knelt between the giant beeches, and sank all thoughts
in pious contemplation; till suddenly those still waters were
convulsed as though with stormy currents, and a wild song beat
through his breast, so that he could not believe it was the bird
singing from a short distance: it was as though the storm of music
broke from his singing heart--yes, from his own heart singing for
some unexpressed fulfillment. He was barely conscious of going
through the trees, with eyes shut tight against the outer world, but
soon he was kneeling at the brink of the Pond, while the surge of
joy and pain in the song broke on his spirit like waves upon a
shore, or love upon a man and a woman--washed back, towered up, and
broke on him again. At last on one full glorious phrase it ceased.
And at that instant, deep in the Pond, he saw the full orb of the
moon, and dipped his head.

Oh, when he lifted it, startled and illuminated, he saw on the
further side of the Pond a woman standing. The moonlight bathed her
form from head to foot, her hair was thrown behind her, and she
stood facing him, so that in the cold clear light he could see her
fully revealed: her strong tender face, her strong soft body, her
strong slim legs, her strong and lovely arms. As white as mayblossom
she was, and beauty went forth from her like fragrance from the
shaken bough. So he knelt on his side and she stood on hers, both
motionless, but gazing into each other's eyes, and his heart broke
(even as it had broken at the bird's song) with a passion to take