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Poem	He felt the entrance's green darkness wrapped cooly round him like a silken cloak that he was still accepting and arranging; when at the opposite transparent end, far off, through green sunlight, as through green window panes, whitely a solitary shape flared up, long remaining distant and then finally, the downdriving light boiling over it at every step, bearing on itself a bright pulsation, which in the blond ran shyly to the back. But suddenly the shade was deep, and nearby eyes lay gazing from a clear new unselfconscious face, which, as in a portrait, lived intensely in the instant things split off again: first there forever, and then not at all.
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