Down the Pass

Over the rim of the rocky pass I saw the sage-green moon Come forth and dance on the silent snow, Like a girl with silver shoon.

Oh, fairy-work was the spell she wove, For the trees spun round with her, As she cast her veil of golden mist O'er lodge-pole pine and fir.

And ever she sped from hill to hill, As down the pass we flew, Till hand in hand, for her saraband, The hills were whirling too.

In gold and green through each ravine She led them dumb and fond, And the sparkling drift would sink and lift To the lure of her gleaming wand.

For Beauty is ever a sorceress, And we must dance with her, Whether we be the children of men Or the seed of the pine and fir.