Gordon Bottomley - The Double-Goer lyrics

He wanders down the winding woodland ways, Half-faltering in the green dusk's doubtful shiver, Until at last by some forgotten river He meets a woman with his own sad face, Sharpened, as if by d**h; clad in a grace Of garments ashen-green, leaf-tremulous: His imaged eyes are lingering-amorous Yet tear-worn, as with writhen mouth he says: "I meet my soul a-walking here beneath This dim oppression of stifling greenery— For to my desolate lovelessness it seems The soul of man is fashioned womanly— And nought is in her aspect, core o' my dreams, Save sweet, sinister promises of d**h."