IN THE FOREST

Out of the mid-wood’s twilight

   Into the meadow’s dawn,

Ivory limbed and brown-eyed,

   Flashes my Faun!

He skips through the copses singing,

   And his shadow dances along,

And I know not which I should follow,

   Shadow or song!

O Hunter, snare me his shadow!

   O Nightingale, catch me his strain!

Else moonstruck with music and madness

   I track him in vain!