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!