In The Forest
Oscar Wilde
out of the mid-wood's twilight
into the meadow's dawn
ivory limbed and brown-eyed
flashes my faun!
he skips through the copses singing
and his shadow dances along
and I know not which I should follow
shadow or song?
O hunter,snare me his shadow!
O nightingale,catch me his strain!
Else moonstruck with music and madness
I track him in vain!
