Woodland Lore

Dearer than the wisdom of the ages
Is the lore wherein I would be seer;
O ye flowers, unfold your fragrant pages!
And, ye druid trees, speak morning-clear!

 

Many a time have I sought out the dimmest
Woodland heart-ways, consecrate and lone,
Where the spectral birch-wand rises slimmest,
And the rill assumes its tenderest tone.

 

Many a tide, sere-vestitured or vernal,
I the fern-fringed, loamy paths have trod
Questingly, and harked the sempiternal
Whispers of the brethren of the sod.

 

Yet have gained, despite my wander-gleaning,
But the alluring husk and not the core;
I who long to probe each hidden meaning,
I who yearn to learn all woodland lore.

 

Dearer than the secrets of the sages
Is the wisdom wherein I'd be seer;
So, ye flowers, unfold your fragrant pages!
And, ye druid trees, speak morning-clear!