Anon—she was released, and then she strayed

O'er the sharp shingles with her bleeding feet,

And stumbled almost every step she made:

And something rolled before her in a sheet,

Which she must still pursue howe'er afraid:

'T was white and indistinct, nor stopped to meet

Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed and grasped,

And ran, but it escaped her as she clasped.