Classic Poem

I

D EEP music of the ancient forest!
Through glades and coverts with thy magic winding;
And in the silence of our hushed hearts finding
Tremulous echoes of thy murmur,
Unshapen thoughts thronging and throbbing:
O music of the mystery, that embraces
All forest depths, and footless far-off places!
Thou art the most high voice of nature,
Thou art the voice of unseen singers,
Vanishing ever deeper through the clinging
Thickets, and under druid branches winging
A flight, that draws our eyes to follow:
Yet, following, find they only forest;
But lonely forest, stately melancholy,
A consecrated stillness, old and holy;
Commanding us to hail with homage
Powers, that we see not, hid in beauty:
A majesty immeasurable; a glorious
Conclave of angels: wherewithal victorious,
The Lord of venerable forests,
Murmuring sanctuaries and cloisters,
Proclaims his kingdom over our emotion:
Even as his brother Lord of the old ocean
Thunders tremendous laws, in tempest
Embattled between winds and waters.
O mighty friendship of mysterious forces,
O servants of one Will! Stars in their courses,
Flowers in their fragrance, in their courses,
Flowers in their fragrance, in their music
Winged winds, and lightnings in their fierceness!
These are the world's magnalities and splendours:
At touch of these, the adoring spirit renders
Glory, and praise, and passionate silence.

II

The moon labours through black cloud,
Through the vast night, dark and proud:
The windy wood dances.
Still the massed heavens drive along:
And, of all night's fiery throng,
The moon alone glances.

How the lights are wild and strange!
Only one light doth not change,
From living fires flowing:
Where, on fragrant banks of fern,
Steadily and stilly burn
The greenwood worms glowing.

Going down the forest side,
The night robs me of all pride,
By gloom and by splendour.
High, away, alone, afar,
Mighty wills and workings are:
To them I surrender.

The processions of the night,
Sweeping clouds and battling light,
And wild winds in thunder,
Care not for the world of man,
Passionate on another plan:
O twin worlds of wonder!

Ancients of dark majesty!
Priests of splendid mystery!
The Powers of Night cluster:
In the shadows of the trees,
Dreams, that no man lives and sees,
The dreams! the dreams! muster.

Move not! for the night wind stirs:
And the night wind ministers
To dreams, and their voices:
Ah! the wild moon earthward bowed
From that tyranny of cloud:
The dim wood rejoices.

What do I here? What am I,
Who may comprehend nor sky,
Nor trees, nor dreams thronging?
Over moonlight dark clouds drive:
The vast midnight is alive
With magical longing.

III

Through the fresh woods there fleet
Fawns, with bright eyes, light feet:
Bright eyes, and feet that spurn
The pure green fern.

Headed by leaping does,
The swift procession goes
Through thickets, over lawns:
Followed by fawns.