Classic Poem

The Wood Child

She needs no playmate; laughing sweet,
She scatters songs upon the breeze,
And, holding to brown bunnies' ears,
She chases leaves around the trees.

Nor does she shame to show the woods
Her lily-slender, white child-limbs;
The lotus envieSher bright form,
When in the mirror stream she swims.

But sometimes, when on lily pads,
She woos the ripples' soft caress,
Her blue eyes fill, and through her steal
Vague, troubled pangs of loneliness.English