Nymph and Faun

Have you not seen a nymph in June Go dancing through the misty woods, Her mad young beauty hid beneath A tattered gown of opening buds?

She flitted through the alder swamp, And loitered by the willow stream, Then started down the wood-road dim, With bare young throat and eyes a-dream.

Her playmate is a shy young faun Who follows her through dappled shade, Craving a blossom from her hand, His wandering by wonder stayed.

The soft winds fan their hearts to flame, Like violets that nod and swoon, They spread the fragrance of the Spring Across the ardor of the noon.

The singing of the twilight brook Is music for their pastorale, Echoing through the aisles of dusk, Where mysteries of Eden fall.

They catch the sorcery of light That trembles from the evening star; And fearlessly they tread a world Where beauty and enchantment are.

When the great round and yellow moon Comes flooding all the marshes wide, She will have crossed the scented dune To dance upon the silver tide.

And when I hear along the coast The wind that pipes through larch and fir, She beckons me to join her host, And I must go and dance with her!