Communion with some forest-sister, fair
And shy as is the whippoorwill-flower there,
Did I disturb?—Still is the wild moss warm
And fragrant with late pressure,—as the palm
Of some hot Hamadryad, who, a-nap,
Props her hale cheek upon it, while her arm
Is wildflower-buried; in her hair the balm
Of a whole spring of blossoms and of sap.—
II
See, how the dented moss, that pads the hump