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276 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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THOMAS W. HAZEN ROLLESTON
(1857 ------)
EVENSONG
I
N the heart of a German forest I followed the winding ways Where the cushioned moss was barred with the sunset's slanting rays,
When I heard a sound of singing, unearthly sad and
clear, Rise from the forest deeps and float on the evening air.
I thought of the spirits told of in dark old forest lore Who roam the greenwood singing forever and evermore ;
And stopped and wondered and waited, as nearer the
music grew, Louder and still more loud, till at last came into view
A troop of Saxon maidens, tanned with the rain and
sun, A burden of billeted wood on the shoulders of every
one.
The strong steps faltered not, and the chanting passed
away In the fragrant depths of the pinewood, and died with
the dying day. |
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