Classic Poem

Gently wanders he
Where no human foot intrudes,
Joyously,
Fancy-free,
The Spirit of the Woods.
Singing through the trees,
Playing with the breeze,
Laughing at the seas
As they roll,
With sullen roar,
To the shore,
Rushing evermore
To their goal.

Softly wanders he
Where no human foot intrudes,
More fancy-free
Than the sea,
The Spirit of the Woods.
Up and down the hill,
By the leaping rill,
On towards the mill
In the vale;
Upwards through the sky,
Where he seems to die,
Breathing forth a sigh
To the gale.

Quietly wanders he,
Through the deep solitudes;
Who so free
There, as he,
The Spirit of the Woods?
By the silent bower,
When the heavens lour,
Nestling in the flower,
Snug and warm;
Darting out again
O'er the grassy plain,
With the merry rain
Through the storm.

Daringly wanders he
Where no human foot intrudes,
Recklessly,
Laughingly,
The Spirit of the Woods.
Up the snowy steep,
To the topmost heap,
As the bleak winds sweep
Down its sides;
From the rocky height,
Through the stormy night,
Laughing with delight,
Back he glides.

Recklessly wanders he
Where no human foot intrudes,
Dauntlessly,
Fancy-free,
The Spirit of the Woods.
In the zephyr mild,
Watching o'er the child,
Lost in the wild,
Lest it fear;
In the lion's den,
In the marsh with the wren,
Through the dismal fen
With the deer.

Thus wanders he, eternally,
Where no human foot intrudes,
Playfully,
Fancy-free,
The Spirit of the Woods.
Rambling everywhere,
Through the woodland air,
Distancing dull care,
As he flies:
Like him, eternally,
Pure thoughts wander free,
Over earth and sea,