Preference
It is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies,
But for all that I have seen you
on a high, white, noble horse,
Like some strange queen in a story.
It is odd that you should be covered with long robes
and trailing tendrils and flowers;
It is odd that you should be changing your face
and resembling some other woman to plague me;
It is odd that you should be hiding yourself
In the cloud of beautiful women who do not concern me.
And I, who follow every seed-leaf upon the wind?
You will say that I deserve this.