 | Forest Notes |  |
29
FOREST-MASS
Now Daylight seeks a shrine of sleep:
A young moon floats on silver wings;
The night-choir of the forest sings;
The nightingales their vigil keep.
A young moon floats on silver wings;
The night-choir of the forest sings;
The nightingales their vigil keep.
A young moon floats on silver wings;
Small dew-fonts now are filling deep;
The nightingales their vigil keep,
Where high the woodbine's censer swings.
Small dew-fonts now are filling deep;
The nightingales their vigil keep,
Where high the woodbine's censer swings.
Small dew-fonts now are filling deep;
The little hare-bell faintly rings;
Where high the woodbine's censer swings
About Night's altar white mists creep.
The little hare-bell faintly rings;
Where high the woodbine's censer swings
About Night's altar white mists creep.
30
The little hare-bell faintly rings;
Moon-shadows through the forest sweep;
About Night's altar white mists creep;
Night celebrates her holy things.
Moon-shadows through the forest sweep;
About Night's altar white mists creep;
Night celebrates her holy things.
A.
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