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Voice on the Wind, and Other Poems

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<h2>THE SPIRIT OF THE FOREST SPRING</h2> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Over the rocks she trails her locks, Her mossy locks that drip, drip, drip; Her sparkling eyes smile at the skies In friendship-wise and fellowship; While the gleam and glance of her countenance Lull into trance the woodland places, As over the rocks she trails her locks, Her dripping locks that the long fern graces. </div> <div class="stanza"> She pours clear ooze from her heart's cool cruse, Its crystal cruse that drips, drips, drips; And all the day its diamond spray Is heard to play from her finger-tips; And the slight soft sound makes haunted ground Of the woods around that the sunlight laces, As she pours clear ooze from her heart's cool cruse, Its dripping cruse that no man traces. </div> <div class="stanza"> She swims and swims with glimmering limbs, With lucid limbs that drip, drip, drip; Where beechen boughs build a leafy house For her form to drowse or her feet to trip; And the liquid beat of her rippling feet Makes three-times sweet the forest mazes, As she swims and swims with glimmering limbs, With dripping limbs through the twilight's hazes. [Pg 14]</div> <div class="stanza"> Then wrapped in deeps of the wild she sleeps, She whispering sleeps and drips, drips, drips; Where moon and mist wreathe neck and wrist, While, starry-whist, through the night she slips; And the heavenly dream of her soul makes gleam The falls that stream and the foam that races, As wrapped in deeps of the wild she sleeps, She dripping sleeps or starward gazes. </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [Pg 15] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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