(99) THROUGH lane it lay, through bramble, Through clearing and through wood, Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road. The wolf came purring curious, The owl looked puzzled down, The serpent’s satin figure Glid stealthily along. The tempest touched our garments, The lightning’s poignards gleamed, Fierce from the crag above us The hungry vulture screamed. The satyr’s fingers beckoned, The valley murmured “Come”— These were the mates—and this the road Those children fluttered home.
-Emily Dickinson