Through lane it lay – through bramble –
Through clearing and through wood –
Banditti often passed us
Upon the lonely road.
The wolf came peering curious –
The owl looked puzzled down –
The serpent’s satin figure
Glid stealthily along
The tempests touched our garments –
The lightning’s poinards gleamed
Fierce from the Crag above us
The hungry Vulture screamed
The satyr’s fingers beckoned –
The valley murmured “Come” –
These were the mates –
This was the road
These children fluttered home.
Emily Dickinson, 1858, Poem #9