The Great Woods Were Awakening.
“Les grands bois s’éveillaient; il faisait jour à peine...”
Pradel.
THE great woods were awakening. A new day
Was freshly born; enchanted birds among
The clear green foliage raised their matin song
To praise the morning-glow. Thought-sad I lay
Beneath a gnarlèd oak; despite that gay
Fresh springtide, all my soul was suffering.
I waited her, and lo! the rapid wing
Of fluttering footsteps brushed the dew away.
Drunken with pleasure in a long-locked kiss
Our breath enmingled. Tightening in my arms
That beautiful, supple form, her heart’s alarms
I stifled on my heart. The thicket drew
Close over us, the sun grew dark, I wis,
Earth faded, Heaven opened to our view...