TO A LADY AT A SPRING

Long aeons since, in leafy woodlands sweet,

Diana, weary with the eager chase,

Was wont to seek full oft some trysting-place

Loved of her rosy train; some cool retreat

Of crystal springs, deep-verdured from the heat

Of sultry noon, wherein each subtle grace

Of snowy form and radiant flower-face,

Narcissus-like, goddess and nymph might greet.

Diana long hath fleeted‘ yond the main;

The founts which erst she loved are all bereft;

No more‘ mid violet-banks her feet are set;

Silent her silvern bugle, fled her train;

One spot alone of all she loved is left:

This poplar-shaded spring is Goddess-haunted yet.