The Hidden Valley
I stray with Ariel and Caliban:
I know the hill of windy pines—I know
Where the jay’s nest swings in the wild gorge below:
Lightly I climb where fallen cedars span
Bright rivers—climb to a valley under ban,
Where west winds set a thousand bells ablow—
An eerie valley where in the morning glow
I hear the music of the pipes of Pan.
Mysterious horns blow by on the still air—
A satyr steps—a wood-god’s dewy notes
Come faintly from a vale of tossing oats.—
But ho! what white thing in the canyon crossed?
Gods! I shall come on Dian unaware,
Look on her fearful beauty and be lost.