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!