Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 3 — Enchantment

ENCHANTMENT

The deep seclusion of this forest path,-- O’er which the green boughs weave a canopy;

Along which bluet and anemone Spread a dim carpet; where the Twilight hath Her dark abode; and, sweet as aftermath, Wood-fragrance roams,--has so enchanted me, That yonder blossoming bramble seems to be Some Sylvan resting, rosy from her bath: Has so enspelled me with tradition’s dreams, That every foam-white stream that, twinkling, flows, And every bird that flutters wings of tan, Or warbles hidden, to my fancy seems A Naiad dancing to a Faun who blows Wild woodland music on the pipes of Pan.