THE SILVER HIND

Through the black forest

You glance, you start,—

Through the black forest

That is my heart!

Beautiful, silver-heeled,

Swift as wind,

Topping the brake

Like a flying hind!

I have a bugle

Of ivory

The wizard of twilight

Gave to me.

I hear it winding in my heart,

In the black forest, where you start.

And I know,

Like huntsmen in gold and green,

That my thoughts spur past

Where you have been,

And, like hounds that have slipped the leash,

They race,—

Bell-tongued brachets

Upon your trace.

Through the black forest

You reach, you run,

Out of the shadow,

Into the sun.

And the hunt behind

Is lyric and loud

Where horses and hounds

And huntsmen crowd....

But you are gone —

Oh, you are gone

Out to the blaze and glory of dawn!

Leaving the print of blood-red anemones

In the mould, and echoes of ancient glees

Shaking like silver leaves on my sombre trees!