Apollo lunges and Daphne pants, pants

Apollo lunges and Daphne pants, pants,
Thinking only of her moistened choices,
And how the god demanded her at once
Without the pass and parry of a dance,
Without a titter from her, or low voices
Conspiring to prove the world a dunce.

How had he thought to enter her without
Flattery?  Would a god stoop to assault
And battery?  Perhaps she had not heard
How he drove his charioted star about,
How the sky bent blue, to him alone devout.
(Perhaps she thought the sky the moon's ward?)

Too bad.  For when she ached into a tree
He ripped her limb from limb for his victory.