FOREST LOVERS
Of poplar, birch, and balsam boughs,
Red cedar-walled, I’ll build my house;
Its pillars silver-boled shall be,
With rafters of the hemlock tree;
Upon the ground the dried ferns spread,
And slippery pine shall make our bed;
And all night long the lapping sound
Of waves shall fill our faerie swound;
Nor native creatures, small and shy,
Shall fright us, as they hurry by,
Nor phantom rustle of the trees
Disturb our loving mysteries.
With the first flying birds to nest
We’ll stretch our happy limbs to rest,
And lip to lip, and palm to palm,
Drift dreamward in the deep wood’s calm,
Whilst thro’ the windy rafter bars
Pale out the lanterns of the stars.
Thus love shall hold us (as Love said),
And holy be the forest bed,
The fresh, wild odours everywhere
Rise on the censers of the air,
And in the soft dark Love shall find
New vows, our lips and souls to bind.
When the white-vestured dawn shall move,
We’ll wake, as we have slept—with love,
And sinless as the forest-born
Arise with them to greet the morn.
From every mist-grey tree-top tall
The singing, singing dews that fall
Shall mingle thro’ veiled vistas dim
With whisper of our marriage hymn.