In sun or shadow cool,
Or loitered through long languorous afternoons
By Dian’s darkling pool.
XIX
Far up the valley Wittenberg’s vast form,
Its summit beckoning, with you I view,
And above sweeping slopes where wild bees swarm
Glimpse timid deer at dawn and fall of dew;
Through Panther Kill we roam,
And mark the purple streamers of the storm