The sea did not chant for her despite her charms she was not Venus. Her beauty did not reap. The father therefore consults Apollo who says beauty must coincide with death. Death-marriage.
She promised (not) to betray her love with whom invisibly she sexed but continued to love The Betrayers. She told the wind to bring them—joy again. She continued to love The Betrayers.
Cupid told her she was a child yet she was to carry his child, perhaps divine, if only.
She hoped to create something to mirror the love she was blind to.
The Betrayers wanted her to have no love at all. They said she was married to something dead and terrible. They said love might be lured to eat her if she became too full of love, a morsel.
‘But if you're so keen on your rural solitude full of voices’ they said.
Naiveté beguiled her. She admitted her love was ‘a shape that flees the light.’
The Betrayers called her love ‘the Thing’ but it was the lamp, a thing, that burned him. Flame loved him.
Alone again this time in full knowledge she strove to marry herself to death. But the stream like the wind took her and set her on the bank. ‘. . . a wave . . . laid her safe on the thick green turf of the bank.’
