 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
II
The Forest
Ghost-flower and mushroom, fungus many hued,Dot dim mosaics under pine and birch,
That column huge this dim, mysterious church,
96
There!—Is't the shadow of a dream pursued?
Or deer that passes?—What is yonder smirch
Against the sunlight?—Raven on its perch?
Or cowléd doubt addressing solitude?—
A brooklet, brown as Autumn, in its flow
Murmurs a prayer, as pilgrims might at march;
And when the wind, with sibilant silence shod,
Lifts up its voice in organ worship, lo,
Yon woodland vista, with its sunset arch,
Seems a vast casement glorifying God.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |