The Word In The Wood

I.     The acorn-oak     Sullens to sombre crimson all its leaves;     And where it hugely heaves     A giant head dark as congested blood,     The gum-tree towers, against the sky a stroke     Of purpling gold; and every blur of wood     Is color on the pallet that she drops,     The Autumn, dreaming on the hazed hilltops. II.     And as I went     Through golden forests in a golden land,     Where Magic waved her wand     And dimmed the air with dreams my boyhood knew,     Enchantment met me; and again she bent     Her face to mine, and smiled with eyes of blue,     And kissed me on the mouth and bade me heed     Old tales again from books no man may read. III.     And at her word     The wood became transfigured; and, behold!     With hair of wavy gold     A presence walked there; and its beauty was     The beauty not of Earth: and then I heard     Within my heart vague voices, murmurous     And multitudinous as leaves that sow     The firmament when winds of autumn blow. IV.     And I perceived     The voices were but one voice made of sighs,     That sorrowed in this wise:     "I am the child-soul that grew up and died,     The child-soul of the world that once believed,     Believed in me, but long ago denied;     The Faery Faith it needs no more to-day,     The folk-lore Beauty long since passed away."