In The Wood

In the wood, where ferns do twine,
And mosses soft as velvet lie;
Ribbons of gold lay hills of green,
Across the woodland, effects, lie.
The echoes of the olivet trees
Whisper cradles soft note;
The light drips gentle through their boughs—
Who knows who lies beneath their coat!
Among the cress and water lilies
No truer love than nature’s kiss;
Find me, as winds sway beneath the trees,
To be lost somewhere in apparent bliss.

• Sarah Orne Jewett