On—up—I pass,

Nor reck the night-wrought spells about me thrown,

Heedless—sucked dry of thought or will

Save to peer curious into this magician’s glass,

And see the forest dreams thru forest moonlight blown.

On—up I plunge—until

Bending, discern before me, with a thrill

The signs where some wild beast has gone.

Who knows but that within the silence here

The cedar shadows gloom about a deer,