The curl fell chestnut-brown on one bright brow.
I like to dream of them that some soft day,
Whilst wandering from home, their fitful feet
Went heedlessly through some still woodland way
Where light and shade harmoniously meet;
And that they wandered deeper and more deep
Into the forest's fragrant heart and fair,
Till just at evenfall they dropped asleep,
And ever since they have been resting there.
After their willful wandering that day