 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
III
The Mill-Stream
The cardinal-flower, in the sun's broad beam,With sudden scarlet takes you by surprise,
Its fiery star arresting heart and eyes,
Like some strange spell beside this forest stream.
The wood around is shadowy as a dream
Of witchcraft, filled with unrealities:—
You'd hardly start if from those ferns should rise
A satyr something with faun eyes agleam.
And on the rocks the sound of drowsy foam
Is like a voice of Legend, half asleep,
Crooning a tale of vague antiquity;
And with the sound you almost feel that some
Strange thing will hap,—a hamadryad leap
Between the boughs, Pan-hunted to the sea.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |