Wood-Song

Love must be a fearsome thing That can bind a maid Glad of life as leaves in spring, Swift and unafraid. I could find a heart to sing Death and darkness, praise or blame; But before that name, Heedfully, oh, heedfully Do I lock my breast; I am silent as a tree, Guardful of the nest. Ah, my passing Woodlander, Heard you any note? Would you find a leaf astir From a wilding throat? Surely, all the paths defer Unto such a gentle quest. Would you take the nest? Follow where the sun-motes are! Truly ’t is a sorrow I must bid you fare so far; Speed you, and good-morrow!

Collection: 
English
Josephine Preston Peabody

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