I did it. It was me. One backward night

I stifled her. Yet was I bedeviled?

Like to a warhorse I had become!

Huffing, snarling, stomping, blindly going on,

At her neck I lunged - and we both fell,

Oh, I must have felt what you feel -

An impulse to crush, so I laid on.

Next we did some wriggling,

But then I felt her stop. And ever since,

I could admit but to contentment:

There lays Octavia, and you have come.