The spirits of the forest.
That haunt the sun's green glow—
Down fungus ways of fern I steal
And wonder what they can conceal,
In dews, that twinkles so.
The spirits of the forest,
They hold me, heart and hand—
And, oh! the bird they send by light,
The jack-o'-lantern gleam by night,
To guide to Fairyland!
II.
The time when dog-tooth violets
Hold up inverted horns of gold,—
The elvish cups that Spring upsets
With dripping feet, when April wets
The sun-and-shadow-marbled wold,—
Is come. And by each leafing way
The sorrel drops pale blots of pink;
And, like an angled star a fay
Sets on her forehead's pallid day,
The blossoms of the trillium wink.
Within the vale, by rock and stream,—
A fragile, fairy porcelain,—
Blue as a baby's eyes a-dream,
The bluets blow; and gleam in gleam
The sun-shot dog-woods flash with rain.
It is the time to cast off care;
To make glad intimates of these:—
The frank-faced sunbeam laughing there;
The great-heart wind, that bids us share
The optimism of the trees.
III.
The white ghosts of the flowers,
The green ghosts of the trees:
They haunt the blooming bowers,
They haunt the wildwood hours,
And whisper in the breeze.
For in the wildrose places,
And on the beechen knoll,
My soul hath seen their faces,
My soul hath met their races,
And felt their dim control.