I

What wood-god, on this water's mossy curb, Lost in reflections of Earth's loveliness, Did I, just now, unconsciously disturb? I who haphazard, wandering at a guess, Came on this spot, wherein with gold and flame Of buds and blooms the Season writes its name.-- Ah, me! could I have seen him ere alarm Of my approach aroused him from his calm! As he, part Hamadryad and, mayhap, Part Faun, lay here; who left the shadow warm As a wood-rose, and filled the air with balm Of his wild breath as with ethereal sap.