In The Forest
Chandeen
out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn ivory limbed and brown-eyed flashes my faun! he skips through the copses singing and his shadow dances along and I know not which I should follow shadow or song? O hunter,snare me his shadow! O nightingale,catch me his strain! Else moonstruck with music and madness I track him in vain!