XVI

But neither to the moon go I

Or to the river gliding by,

But to the woods, therein to move

Among the quiet glades I love,

Desiring nought but aye to see

The beech, ash, oak, and chestnut tree....

Till I a nymph meet who persuades

Me to the broadest of the glades,

Around whose smooth and sunken space

The far woods lie. For in this place,

Deserted but for a mid-grove

Of maiden trees, bower of the dove,

Pan plays, and should the sylvans chance,

Nymphs, fauns, and sylvans, join in dance.