I.

From tales of rural gods I rose,

And sought them through the woody deeps,

Where, held in shadowy, sweet repose,

The sunshine, like Endymion, sleeps—

Where murmurous waters softly sing

To listening branches, bended low,

And tuneful birds on waving wing,

As Zephyrus, gently come and go.

II.

Vainly I sought the gods, yet heard

Their whispering spirits say to mine,

"Who seeks us finds the forests stirred

By myriad voices all divine,

And learns that still the mystic spell

Of fauns and dryads fills the place

With beauty myths have failed to tell—

One god in every hidden face."