V

And here with her harp doth she wander, That daughter of music, twice kissed Of the Spirits of Love and of Sorrow: Yea, here doth she wander and ponder, That maiden of moonlight and mist, With starlight on hair and on wrist; Yea, here doth she ponder and wander 'Mid blossoms with loveliness whist, 'Mid moonlight with fragrances kissed. And ever her being grows fonder Of forests where phantoms keep tryst, The people of moon and of mist: And often they troop to her singing, As she sits 'mid the undulant cedars-- All savage of wildness and scent-- Whose tops to her beauty are bent, Like the pennons and plumes of fierce leaders, In worship and testament: Like the pennons and plumes of fierce leaders, All ragged with battle and rent.