For look how many talking mouths be there,
So many angers show their teeth at us.
Which one is that, stooped somewhat in the neck,
That walks so with his chin against the wind,
Lips sideways shut? a keen-faced man--lo there,
He that walks midmost.

MARY SEYTON.
That is Master Knox.
He carries all these folk within his skin,
Bound up as 't were between the brows of him
Like a bad thought; their hearts beat inside his;
They gather at his lips like flies in the sun,
Thrust sides to catch his face.

MARY CARMICHAEL.
Look forth; so--push
The window--further--see you anything?

MARY HAMILTON.
They are well gone; but pull the lattice in,
The wind is like a blade aslant. Would God
I could get back one day I think upon:
The day we four and some six after us
Sat in that Louvre garden and plucked fruits
To cast love-lots with in the gathered grapes;
This way: you shut your eyes and reach and pluck,
And catch a lover for each grape you get.
I got but one, a green one, and it broke
Between my fingers and it ran down through them.