Bechill

The god, in fine, of every savage tribe. And as he stood, a thrill of dread instinct, As from a serpent coiled, bechilled the whole Assembly.

What brings the tears to other eyes But freezes them in mine, And what bechills another heart Fans into flame my own.

Louder on nights when in cold glory The full moon made its meditative tour, To rich chords from her grand black piano She sang the disappointment that is Man For all her lawns and orchards: Slowly The spreading ache bechills the rampant glow Of fortune-hunting blood, [...]

"[...] The weather bechills me, and the wounded rampant will not show again this day, to be sure."

Attempting rescue from bechilled tomorrows [...]