The Fury I feel like an animal the shine of a hair bonnet the laced bosom of a serving wench the nape of a new englander the wheatfed arms of the pastry girl her butter smile those filthy calves of the footbare farmhand in the grainery in the cloak room the feedhouse outhouse barnyard dark woods hidden in the dark woods furious in the dark woods in muddy cornrows the navel the small of the back a migrant a vagrant tramp hussy prostitute proud mouths cheeks eager by the seashore the orchard the livery alone in the woodshed creekbed pigpen.