Classic Poem

She dwelt in the greenwood,
A spring gushing near,
No fairy queen could
Queenlier fare.

Bees knew her caskets;
Bold friars gray
Filling their baskets,—
“For the convent,” said they.

Butterfly vagrants
Gossiped there long;
Winds brought her fragrance,
Birds brought her song.

Leaves rustling o'er her
Let the light through;
The blithe stream would pour her
Draughts of sweet dew.

O'er her so clearly
The warm heavens smiled;
They all loved her dearly,
The forest's fair child.

Thus passed her childhood
Dreamily by,
By the fount in the wild wood,
'Neath the blue sky.

The kind sun above her,
Stream, bird, and wind,
She knew not they loved her,
Knew they were kind.

Till one day gazing
In the fount pure and cold,
A vision amazing
She saw there unfold.

A blue eye soft beaming
Met her blue eye,
A golden star gleaming,
A miniature sky.

Calm the waves under
The fair vision lay;
Lost in sweet wonder,
She gazed there all day:

Saw not the heaven,
Heard not the breeze,
Till the soft even
Shadowed the trees.

The stars still were shining,
But they seemed far,
While she lay pining
For her lost star.

The gentle leaves rustling,
The night-winds' soft stir,
Seemed harsh and bustling,
Strange voices to her.

Not heaven's smile moved her,
Nor the stream's old kind tone;
'Mid so many that loved her,
She wept there alone:

Till, the shadows dispersing,
The Sun rose anew,
The high forest piercing,
Pierced her heart through.

Her dewy eyes raising,
He met them and smiled,
The eye of heaven gazing
On her, heaven's child.

For the lost dream was given
The Truth brighter far,
The blue loving heaven,
The Sun for the star.

Then all voices moved her:
The trees grave and tall,
The deep sky above her,
The blithe insects small,
She loved them each one,
For they all loved the Sun,
And the Sun loved them all.