 | The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road |  |
THE GIPSY.
Deep in a wood I met a maid,
Who had so wild an air
Her beauty made my heart afraid,
And filled me with despair.
Who had so wild an air
Her beauty made my heart afraid,
And filled me with despair.
She wore a gown of gipsy dyes,
That had a ragged look;
The brown felicity of her eyes
Was like a mountain brook.
That had a ragged look;
The brown felicity of her eyes
Was like a mountain brook.
Around her hair, of raven hue,
Was bound a gentian band,
And from each tree the wild birds flew
And fluttered to her hand.
Was bound a gentian band,
And from each tree the wild birds flew
And fluttered to her hand.
The crow sat cawing in the thorn
As if it, too, would greet
Her coming; and the winds of morn
Made music for her feet.
As if it, too, would greet
Her coming; and the winds of morn
Made music for her feet.
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Barefooted down the wood she came
Bearing a magic rod
That left the leaves it touched aflame
And aster-starred the sod.
Bearing a magic rod
That left the leaves it touched aflame
And aster-starred the sod.
I spoke to her! “Tell who you are!
So fair, so wild, so free!
A being from some other star?
Or wildwood witchery?”
So fair, so wild, so free!
A being from some other star?
Or wildwood witchery?”
She smiled, and, passing, turned and said:
“You do not know me then?
Why, I am she, you long deemed dead,
Autumn, returned again!”
“You do not know me then?
Why, I am she, you long deemed dead,
Autumn, returned again!”
| The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road | |