The Haunted Woodland

Here in the golden darkness And green night of the woods, A flitting form I follow, A shadow that eludes - Or is it but the phantom Of former forest moods? The phantom of some fancy I knew when I was young, And in my dreaming boyhood, The wildwood flow'rs among, Young face to face with Faery Spoke in no unknown tongue. Blue were her eyes, and golden The nimbus of her hair; And crimson as a flower Her mouth that kissed me there; That kissed and bade me follow, And smiled away my care. A magic and a marvel Lived in her word and look, As down among the blossoms She sate me by the brook, And read me wonder-legends In Nature's Story Book. Loved fairy-tales forgotten, She never reads again, Of beautiful enchantments That haunt the sun and rain, And, in the wind and water, Chant a mysterious strain. And so I search the forest, Wherein my spirit feels, In tree or stream or flower Herself she still conceals - But now she flies who followed, Whom Earth no more reveals.