Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE RELATES THE VISION OF THE FAWN

Hard by a laurel, between two running streams,
At the young season's youngest budding dawn,
In a green space I saw a milk-white fawn
With horns as golden as an angel's dreams;
Remote and magical, with little gleams
Of light around its head, it wandered on:
Leaving my labours, like a miner drawn
By gold, I followed — foolishly, it seems.
" Let none impede me! " — round its collar ran
The legend pricked in pearl and diamond —
" By Caesar's charge I wander fancy-fond. "
The sun now mounted his meridian,
Yet still I stared, till sudden the spell broke,
Snapt by a voice — and mine old anguish woke.