Orpheus

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, 132