In child-like meditative mood
I wandered in the dell,
Passed through the quiet glades of the wood,
And sought the haunted well,
Half hopeful that its solitude
Might work some miracle.
The oaks raised angry hands on high:
The willows drooped for tears:
The yews held solemn ceremony,
Magical spells of years.
I saw one cypress melancholy,
A prince among his peers.
So, turning from the arboreal seat
And midmost hollow of earth,
I followed Hamadryads’ feet
That made at eve their mirth
To where the streamlet wandered fleet
To show what time was worth.
I watched the waters wake and laugh
Running o’er pebbly beaches,
Writing amazement’s epitaph
With freshets, turns, and reaches :—
The only tale too short by half
That nature ever teaches.
Then growing grander as it swept
Past bulrushes and ferns,
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