The Hidden Valley

I stray with Ariel and Caliban: I know the hill of windy pines—I know Where the jay’s nest swings in the wild gorge below: Lightly I climb where fallen cedars span Bright rivers—climb to a valley under ban, Where west winds set a thousand bells ablow— An eerie valley where in the morning glow I hear the music of the pipes of Pan.

Mysterious horns blow by on the still air— A satyr steps—a wood-god’s dewy notes Come faintly from a vale of tossing oats.— But ho! what white thing in the canyon crossed? Gods! I shall come on Dian unaware, Look on her fearful beauty and be lost.