Classic Poem

Earnest to explore within and all around
The divine wood, whose thick green living woof
Tempered the young day to the sight, I wound

Up the [green] slope, beneath the [forest's] roof
With slow soft steps, leaving the abrupt steep
And the aloof.

A gentle air which had within itself
No motion struck upon my forehead bare,
The soft stroke of a continuous wind

In which the passive leaves tremblingly were
All bent towards that [part], where earliest
That sacred hill obscures the morning air;

Yet were they not so shaken from their rest
But that the birds, perched on the utmost spray,
[Incessantly] renewing their blithe quest

With perfect joy received the early day,
Singing within the glancing leaves, whose sound
Kept one low burthen to their roundelay,

Such as from bough to bough gathers around
The pine forest on bleak Chiassi's shore,
When Aeolus Scirocco has unbound.

My slow steps had already borne me o'er
Such space within the antique wood, that I
Perceived not where I entered any more;

When lo, a stream whose little waves went by,
Bending towards the left the grass that grew
Upon its bank, impeded suddenly

My going on—waters of purest hue
On earth, would appear turbid and impure
Compared with this, whose unconcealing dew

Dark, dark [yet] clear moved under the obscure
Eternal shades, whose [glooms]
The rays of moon or sunlight ne'er endure.

I moved not with my feet, but amid the glooms
I pierced with my charmed sight, contemplating
The mighty multitude of fresh May blooms;

And then appeared to me, even like a thing
Which suddenly for blank astonishment
Dissolves all other thought,

A solitary woman, and she went
Singing and gathering flower after flower
With which her way was painted and besprent.

Bright lady, who if looks had ever power
To bear [firm] witness of the heart within,
Dost bask under the beams of love, come lower

[Towards] this bank, I prithee let me win
Thus much of thee, that thou shouldst come anear
So I may hear thy song; like Proserpine

Thou seemest to my fancy, singing here
And gathering flowers, at that time when
She lost the spring and Ceres her … more dear.