Nero CaroZiv

A Forest Nymph - Poem by Nero CaroZiv

It was the middle of the night by the forest mossy rock
The furry feathers owl had awakened the woods clock
How drowsy were the habitants of the trees at that hour?
The wind whistled and moaned ominously across the wide bower
All night the restless wind breathed low with mellower tone
Through every hollow cave and craggy alley lone

The night was stormy chilly and haunted dark
The trees barely held to their thin, tattered peeling bark
The heavy dark gray clouds were spread in vaults high
They covered but not totally hided the canopy sky
The old frightened hare in her pad beneath the rock
Made no answer to the wide starring owl alarm clock

A night with winds which began to flow and to rise
A thundering broken roar from the far West dropping day
Blew dust and hay and whirled them high in the air away
The flock of alarmed crows were blown to the skies
The awful awl scouted the forest deep
Who still would venture out? Who would not sleep?

It was the month before the month of June
The spring straggled late and was out of tune
May flowers did not bloom yet bellow the barren peak
Except black pebbles that wreathed the winding creek
The pale moon was peeping behind cracks of siege of clouds
With fickle unsteady mood would set her observer in wondering doubts

The moon was waning behind not in total full
With unsettled orbit of shaken sky searching for a lull
The rain came down in gusts and hurls ferocious and loud
The forest beasts were hurdling for a cover shroud
At the village close by windows the shutters banged in sound grimed;
All night the roof's gutters over flew and over brimmed

Oh that lovely lady her name I do not know to tell
Whom the village people feared and hated so profoundly well
What made her in the pathless woods roam so late?
Had she not any shelter or a hut, a warm welcoming gate
Withdrew she into the forest so early before a dark chilly dreary morning
A day to come with sun delayed over village with gray sky in mourning

There in the forest she wandered; a phantom of delight
Dressed in a long silken gown of a bright hue of white
Its shadowy silhouette in the moonlight lulled and played
With a neck that made that white gown look stately displayed
Her beautiful shoulders and arms were glossy and bare
Her blue veined feet un sandaled and bare to the chilly air

And wildly glittered in every direction there
The vermilion hue gems entangled in her hair
Such a beautiful lady must had been a frightful vision to see
A lady as exceedingly exquisite as was she
The early spring flowers were vanquished lost in their pride
As she passed by them trying their blushes to hide

She had amorous dreams during all the night
Of her own future to be her dream knight
The meadow before her was grassy lush, wild and bare
Wide, wanton and open to the breezy air
And she in the midnight wood would in pure presence pray
That the day her future lover she would meet was not too far away

So the night was chilly and the forest gloom bare
It was the stubborn wind that moaned calmly stark and bleak
Yet there was not wind enough in the dump air
To stir away the ringlet of so silk soft curl
From the lovely lady's smooth wet cheek
For no doubt her presence put the night gale into a quell

Nor there was wind enough to shake off or to twirl
The one black red leaf, the last of its group
That continued to mock and to dance against the wind and no yield it took
It clutched to its root bough as an adamant squirrel
Hanging so light and hanging so fairly high
On the topmost thin twig that scanned the grim sky

She smoothed along muddy ground and she nothing spoke
Her dress wet soaked her tufts of hair were soft and low
And nothing was green upon the naked boughs of blaster oak
But the black moss and the rare mistletoe
She kneeled beneath the broad huge oak tree
And in divine silence and holy serenity prayed she

And then the night became stormy again; tempest and wind straining
The pale yellow dark woods were waning
And the broad lake with overflowed banks complaining
Of relentless downpour from heavy low sky raining
Down to the bay she swiftly walked and found a boat
Beneath a solitary willow left by a villager afloat

As she passed through the moon struck surf
The wind became calm along the bare turf
She left her bare foot print on the white sand
By the host of wild sage on the bare bank
Of that eye sapphire bay, on whose smooth watery face
Our world was reflected in reverse and encircled by tree's lace

Such a lovely ornament on the womb of earth
Just lately had been given by the forest nymph a newly birth
Which a cloud that floats on vaults of heights
Never in its long wandering has spot in sight
Yet to the villagers these marks on the white sand
Proved to be an ominous sign of foul dire hand

In that midnight spring she found by the bay within
A little boat tied to branches dripping willow tree
Straight she unloosed the chain and stepping in
Pushed from the grassy shore with alacrity seldom one may see
Oh the pleasure of her scene, nor without the voice and grace
Of mountains echoes against the bay trees base

And the boat moved smoothly along the bay
As the silver moon watched spreading her abundance of rays
Away from the creeping mosses and clambering weeds
Leaving behind the willow branches hoar and dank
And the waving swell of the waving, murmuring reeds
And the wave worn surf of the bay echoing bank

A forest nymph on a floating boat with her exquisite face
Started singing with pure soft voice pealing to the moon luster flooded sky
She stood on her sailing boat with feet like sunny gems in forest with dark green
A nymph in the light of her youth and her grace
Singing a passionate ballad gallant of context that never die
A listener to such voice will be enthralled, trance, though she might be unseen

And thus she sailed in grace and beauty, like the night
Of cloudless, clear climates and starry flickering skies;
And all that was best of dark hues and rays bright
Converge in her aspect and her dreaming eyes:
Thus her appearance mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven at that bay to the holy days denies.

If one could watch the shade the more or the ray less,
The war of lights had half impaired her nameless grace
Which waved so glamorously in every raven tress,
Or softly lightened over her countless beautiful face;
Where thoughts were serenely and sweetly in express,
Astonishingly how pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

No one was there at night to regard that cheek, and that brow,
So soft, so calm, so bright and eloquent,
With smiles that may have wined, and with tints that glow,
But tell of days in the forest gloom yet in goodness spent,
And her mind at peace with all the forest dwellers below,
And heart whose love was pure naturally innocent!

Her sweet voice on the nightly bay was like music on the waters
There was none like her in all of the village daughters
Her voice so soft and calming as if its sound causing
The vexed bay face holy retreat and pausing
For then the rippling waves lie still and gleaming
And the lulled winds slowed in trance dreaming

On the forest echoes did her boat moved with the tide
Leaving behind her a still stir on either side
Small waves in circles glittering idly in the moon
Until they all melt united into one track of loom
Of sparkling light; But their maid rows in pride
The see the slumbering village houses flickering late lights

Her sweet voice echoed far through the forest gloom
And the reeds at the bottom bay noted their blades in display of bloom
She toiled hard the oar on her hands to cut the bay surface into two halves
As she passed the low growing bay weeds loaded with heavy chafes
She could had gone sailing all night long
As so pure and melodious was her song

Alas! Danger! Danger! The village was dorm ominous and close
They, the villagers attributed to her all their failures and mal fortune in full dose
To that forest nymph that in the remote depth of the pathless woods dwell
Yet no one in the village could explain or tell
How it all evolved or spread out and culminated
And it went on strengthened snow balled and never ceased or terminated

The dreadful village bell was ringing echoing thru vale and dale and from within
The silent woods re-echoed a great din
Of the village hounds bark and hollowing
Sometimes it sounded like a sobbing crowed of people gathering
Over the calm bay the bell din traveled to both sides
With skillful hands she mastered the oar holding it tied

She dipped forcefully her oar into the silent lake
And as she rose upon the stroke the boat turn to take
A course of heaving through the water like a swan
With sinews and force, she never stopped but kept on
Leaving behind the bell ring all around
And the silent woods with shouts the din did resound

And yet to the village people, habits, ways and girls' cloths she was strongly drawn
To all the stores, boutiques and everywhere merchandise was shown
The skirts, the bags and other feminine articles especially the perfume scents
The way they walk, the way they eat or laugh in the village gathering streets
Not once she tried to join them in the village streets at their beats
But they have chased her out vigorously with blocks and stones and whatever the found as fit

The floating gray thin clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow soft dripping branches bend
She did fail to acknowledge the motions of the calm dorm storm
A grace that she had would mold any maiden delight form
How the village folks fail to see
That silent meek silent sympathy

And thus she dwelled in a hut among pathless untrodden forest ways
Besides of orchards springs and high trees nesting dove
A forest nymph whom there were none to praise
A maid that except her grandmother did experience any human love
Like a shy violet by a mossy stone hidden from the eye
Fair as a unique star when it is the only one shinning in the sky

So light and sportive she was as a fresh fawn
That is wild with the glee of the wind strutting along the meadow lawn
Or challenged the mountains heights with rushing springs
Where fresh distilled waters fall in streams
And hers was the field breathing balm
With intoxicating flowers scent and calm

The forest stars of midnight would be fascinating and dear
To her, and she would listen leaning her ear
To mysterious sounds in many remote and secret places
Where rivulets danced and swayed their wayward round
To adore the beauty born of the forest murmuring sound
The forest night scenes and music played pass before her in many faces

And so she lived in the forest gloom among the untrodden ways
Beside the swinging springs of distilled waters
Maid whom there were none to watch or to praise
And none could match her in beauty and style among the village daughters
And every morning as the orient its gracious light steeps up heavenly hill
The trees of the forest and the flowers of the fields adore her beauty still

Like a violet by a mossy, craggy, covered with patina stone
Sporadically seen most of the times half hidden from the eye
She was fair as a star, when that single and only one
Is shining in the deep blue vaults of the sky
As she strolled among stems of maize plants golden ripe
And trod over fresh grass with green varied stripe

She lived known as the notorious witch of the forest, and few could know
How lovely maid so close to nature and celestial things she can be;
She did crave human company since besides her grandmother she knew none
Yet her amorous feelings in her heart were fostered without hope for the one
She was not self-willed, and being much too fair
To be death's conquest and leave the world making worms her heir

And thus she grew to sit on mossy rocks, to muse over flood and fell,
And to slowly trace the forest's shady gloom and scene,
Where there were things that own not by human's dominion dwell,
And mortal feet had never if ever rarely been;
She wandered in climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
Alone, embarrassed by nature over steeps and foaming falls to lean;

Any day an adventure with the wild flock that never needs a fold;
This was not solitude, this was but to hold
A converse with Nature's charms, and view nature stores unrolled.
Far from midst the crowd, the hurry, the shock of men and women bold,
To hear, to see, to feel and to possess,
And roam alone, the forest habitants, trees, flowers and the wind that caresses

Alone with none who bless her, none whom she could bless;
Minions of splendor shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all the flattered, followed, sought and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

The vermilion rose that drinks the fountain rising vapor
In the pleasant air of the forest gloom at a calm afternoon,
Grows pale and orange with altered as its scent pour
then n the gaze of the nightly full moon;
For the planet at her prime grace, so warm and bright
Makes it waning with her borrowed beamed light.

Such was she the forest nymph more than any rose fair,
FOR that at best the rose withered blossom;
with false care does idly wear
Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom;
while the forest nymph fed with love, like air and dew,
her vital and vivacious growth in the forest hue

At dark evening with heavy clouds when all the village slept and snored
The forest nymph sought shelter in her hut from the rain that poured
The night high tide rushed and raked upon the stony sandy bay shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky mossy low caves
The violent wind moans and mourns the hoarse vexed bay, seeming to deplore
All that are buried in the bay and in the womb of the restless waves

Mined and hammered by corrosive tides, the hollow scared rough rock
Falls prone, and rushing from its lofty turf height,
It shacked the broad beach with long-resounding trembling shock,
Loud thundering on the ear of sullen dark, deserted, lonely night;
Beasts and birds were hiding in every hole, shelter in the plot of the land
None would venture out to lay upon the grass or to bath in the sand

Above the desolate and stormy deep,
Gleamed the wan frightened moon, by floating mist oppressed; clouds scattered like fearful sheep
Yet in warm houses while youth, and health, and labor sleep,
Alone the forest nymph would wander vexed and anguished with no rest, when the wind roar was long and steep
Calm came not to the shore of that bay; silver waves never did pause or sleep
The tides and ebbs rushed and forced upon long sandy beach with no rest as the caves coughed the blasts and did weep

< br>

Once upon a morning spring in the early hours of dawn
Two young villagers got up and sallied from their cottage brown
Athwart their shoulders a bow and arrows they carried
And towards the forest gloom their steps they hurried.
All day they searched a target in the forest for their arrow
Finding none, their prolonged anguish grew sharp and narrow.

So as soon as the gored sun with her purple-colored face
Had taken her last leave of the dew dripping morn,
The two lads put their heed to the chase;
Hunting they loved, bow and arrows
But love itself and the village lasses they laughed to scorn;
Sick-thought they were not; maids were not in their shows

Hunger and thirst tortured them all day till dusk
And fatigue and pain settled in their limbs to last
But alas toward the evening as the gored sun sunk
They by the lake watched a phantom of delight that shook utterly their rank
Tall, impressive and amorous the forest nymph looked
As she was busy unaware, courting her beautiful image in a shady nook.

And after hot chase the blood thirsty furious dogs
Being incautious and gallant entered these deep mossy bogs
And horror stricken when realized their clumsy error
They turned back whining with looks of terror
And even when by their master hands being caressed
They still shook and trembled by the long fright they possessed

'Is that the maid the village bestrides as a vile witch?
A reason and a cause of all their mal happening so they did preach
See her tattered attire how it makes it so expire and lean
Any cloth on her stature will look like on a queen
Oh this whole landscape meadow without her image of grace and win
Will look like a barren field in the middle of draught in spring'

On either side of the running brook lie
Long fields of wind brushing barley and heads of rye
That reached as far as the scouting of the eye
The breeze blew thru the wold and met in vaults of sky
And thru the field the road cut and run by
Where field rabbits stood unwilling to cross being shy

The gleaming willows whitening in the gales along the river
The aspens shade the hills close by in the brook murmur shiver
Little breezes of dusk that run for ever
Behind the wall of high colorful flowers
The village gray houses and four gray towers
The silent meadow it embowers

They watched her tinny feet jumped over creeping mosses and clambering weeds
As she ran beneath willow branches hoar and dank
She ran along the wavy swell of the sighing reeds
And the wave worn horns of the opposite echoing bank
He scudded the silvery marsh flowers that throng
Over meadows and valleys in stretched so long

One of the two lads was totally smoothened, her two great eyes slay him suddenly;
Their beauty shock him although he was a lad so serene;
Straight through his heart the wound was quick and keen.
The whole scene fell upon him unexpected and abruptly
Only a gentle word from her voluptuous mouth could heal the injury
To his pain and hurt heart, while yet the wound was clean

She stopped; she stood above the little creek stream, and lightly shed
upon the spring grass her shawl, carnelian red
A heavenly view; a picture that a sinful painter would drape this goddess warm,
Because she still is naked, being on his canvas expressed
But he as a godlike sculptor he will not so deform
Beauty, beauty which bones and flesh enough invest.

The forest nymph noticed the stricken men but she did not prolong herself on the stage of the two
Hesitatingly, while keeping her eyes on the foes she into the forest withdrew.
At least, and surprisingly the two lads were not so hostile
That astonishing thought dwelt in her head for a while
They did not raise these dreadful summons and called to the streets
Nor did they throw blocks and stones and called with dire shrieks and beats

The forest nymph came through the meadow of spring flowers yonder,
Her face was turned away from the sun towards the west,
And he the stricken lad divined how her clear eyes shined thru long lashes
With the light of a lasting rest
And the rays of the sun-set did wander
To bless her, and she was blest through the grass so lush

By touch of her golden splendor,
The beauty of earth and sky,
With her spirit burst high
The divine music of the forest gloom passed her by
And around her that Heaven or Earth might send her in candor
He out of gasp watched where she st0ood and did sigh.

##3 the tree
Next morning, he the smitten lad rose like Lions after a day of sleep
In unvanquishable conviction so overwhelming and deep
As he shook his chains of restless sleep to earth like crystals of dew
Which in sleep had fallen within vexing dreams though few
O phantom of delight, that she was here
With her fiery slaying eyes so bright and clear.

He was hidden among the balmy bushes his silhouette not to reveal
For his eyes had commanded him from her view to conceal
And listened to heavenly song he ever heard
For her sweet voice, sounded like a bird
Singing love to its lone mate
In the ivy bower disconsolate;

Then all was quiet in the forest gloom and every creature stained
As though it was expecting an event for it all habitants remained
Immobile at the post of their lair and they were listening long
Only the forest sang a distant whispering song
And then in mid of silence a woodpecker anon
Taped lightly on a fir and then it hashed gone

It was hidden from view but still was tapping with its beak
From branch to branch like a child playing in hide and seek
Nearby a brown squirrel was sitting and in her paw
She held a nut; her tail, the while she did gnaw
Hanging over her like a plume of a pirate in a corsair
Her fur was clean and shinning in the sun so fair

She saw the lad hidden in the bushes and like a lightning she did flee
From bough to bough she was a dancer in a tree
At last she estimated the dangerous invader and slipped into unseen hole
Returning like a dryad to her bole
Echoing silence again, till somewhere fingers did push
Apart the green clusters of a balmy bush

If he only looked up to the foliage of the sturdy oak
O wonderful surprise; he would have seen her in white baggy cloak
Her two widely opened startling eyes
Wide open as is when one's sight
Is peering into darkness from the light
And on one side he would have seen a little hand
Covering the smile of confusion against the boughs being by breezes fanned

She was mocking the lad; her long fingers to the sunshine turned
With translucent red like rubies burned
Her two curious lips were opened scarcely met
And white gloss teeth were like pearls set
And though the rosy long fingers veiled it so
Yet all her exquisite face was like a spring rose did aglow

Between them shined a face ever so fair
The forest nymph was gathering nuts and berries there
And occasionally offered herself from her basket of bark and chips
Fresh gathered wild strawberries rosy in color as her lips
She bended the maze of hazels high
From which she plucked the filberts flashing high

From the high lush foliage of an old sturdy oak tree she gazed at him
As her tiny feet clinched tight to the massive boughs brim
'O foolish lad if you had never to the forest strayed
Beyond the woods, you would not have felt so down betrayed
You should have left me alone and follow fragrance of the honey drawn
Or harvest the long ripening corn'

'You left the plain meadows where the trees are scarce and grow thin
And so you lost my trace; now you do not know where I have been
And so I did vanish into the forest thicket like cunning creature sped
And you will never know or guess where I spend the night and where I was fed'
She almost chocked in her giggle; holding her palm tight to her mouth
While the confused lad down the tree seemed to lose the South

Solemn had set on the struck lad, drew him to sit on rocks, to muse over will and shall,
To slowly trace the forest shady scene, before the village announced bell
There she lived, the saint beauty, where things that own not man dominion dwell,
Secluded forest lot; mortal feet had never or if rarely there been;
Surrounded by the trackless mountain all hideous and unseen,
With the wild flocks of goats and sheep that roamed in slops so green

Alone he was there over steeps and roaring, foaming falls to lean;
So struck he was by the phantom he saw a solitude, for contemplation he sought to hold
Her charms and beauty so coincided with Nature's charms, he crave to view all her stores unrolled.
A strange feeling dissipated into him; the thought that his life would never be the same
To hear, to see, to feel and to possess, whatever that creature had been
He was tangled and owned by love game

With none in the village who bless him, none whom he could bless;
What a splendor in the landscape so unburdening, so shrinking from distress!
The observer would be calm, and with kindred consciousness endued,
If he were not, he would seem to smile the less
Of all the flattered, followed, sought and sued;
That was to be alone; that was graceful solitude!

The enthralled lad was amazed at the view; every now and then
He stopped and scan the forest edge and the small house again
And once, just once it seemed to him that from the smoking hut
A feminine dress flashed out white, mysterious and quite
Or something else falling gently from a height
Flew through the open porch like a flash light

At night in the village, athwart the shutter as he lay and others snored
The spangled moonlight through the heart shaped opening poured
The silver column was beaming on his vexed head
He tried to doze and to toss upon his uncomfortable bed
Dodging the silver moon; then suddenly he heard
A tap, and got up as blithely as a light bird

He was at ease surprisingly and happy and so lightly breathed
And around his mouth a little smile was wreathed
Remembering how the hunting of that day had past
The vision of the forest nymph made him flushed and sighed; his heart beat fast
He marveled her splendid look and he felt she was so close
Was the encounter a real event or one of imaginary those

##4 the hut
He by the window hut stood stare
And totally mused, and breathed the flower scented air
He bent down to the violet lot and then
His curious gaze passed over the leading paths again
And into the tiny footprints strayed
At once he guessed by whom they had been made

Then looking up, he suddenly caught the sight
Of her, a young forest maid upon the fence of birch white
That to her breast her slender form enclosed
Her erect straight shoulders and her swan like neck exposed
He contemplated that the girls of the village wear this guise
At early morning but not before men's eyes

And so she though none was there to see, had pressed
Her arms as if it were a veil upon her lovely breast
Her abundant hair was not in tresses unconfined
But into little grass stems was twined
That wonderfully graced her, and the summer sunlight shed
Was like a radiance halo around her head

The small house was surrounded; scattered all about cheery trees
Between them hand raised crops of all varieties
Wheat, maize and beans and bearded barely grew
And peas and millet; flowers and some bushes too
The housekeepers that garden had devised
As beautiful and abundance it was yet they were unapprised.

That was a day when summer sun shined dim in the open air
And not a sunbeam entered straight there
But even without the sun rays he could see a thick winding tree train
And a chamber hidden in the woods with figures strange and sweet
All made out of imaginative feminine brain
For her hut had windows small with shutters that did not meet

Through the window he could curiously peek and see
Something carved so astonishingly as adorable she
In the middle of the chamber a lamp with two-fold silver chain
Was fastened to an angelic figure feet; to stop him now who can?
The silver lamp burned dead and waning dim
But the forest nymph made it immediately bright by a trim

Suddenly and swiftly she appeared in the wooden porch
His heart started bouncing in his chest, he was a torch
He was amazed and enthralled: 'Oh gracious hell!
Where did she get this hailing tail? '
Oh hell like from which heaven she stole
The fire that through those silken lashes
In fiercest glances seem to ever roll
From the eyes that cannot hide their flashes

She was a human after all! Totally alive human and not a witch
He wish he could that view of her his villagers teach
A stature of Goddess; as her bosom steal
In lengthened flow her raven tresses
No other maid in town can match, be she from the best lasses

He could swear each clustering lock could still
And curled to give her beautiful neck caresses
As she strayed on the mossy porch along
She imprinted her impression on the amazed gazing throng
Of birds of songs and like some bearded meteor trailing light
She at the girdle porch stayed and stared towards his side

He was stricken and delirious
She was inquisitive and curious

He crouched few yards in front her carved with stone
And once, but once she turned lifting her eyes
And suddenly, sweetly, strangely blushed
To find they were met by his own
And suddenly, sweetly strangely his heart beat stronger
His blood throbbed thicker until he heard no longer

The old matriarch was worried ' I have been somewhat disquieted my dear
For ever since the young from the village has been strolling around here
I am old and you are the only child I care about and this wandering boy
Rope me of consolation and earthy joy' her listener was shy and coy
'We must be thinking for this matter some settlement
For knowing the village people this may turn into your predicament'

He could no more, but lay like one in trance
That cannot speak, nor move, nor make one sign
But lies and adores his treasure view in constant glance
She turned and paused by the sunbeam blasted pine
'Come down, O maid, from this oracle of a mountain fire'
He urgently to himself thought, overwhelmed with desire

With her long like water fall hair she drew he like the moon draws the sea
A floating cloud stooped from the bright sky and threw its shape
Over a long valley, and near mountain and a remote cape
He felt no more the same, her fate and his were that moment sealed
An emotional surge seized his heart to which he could not yield
But how he would strive the village stream; and see what they could not see

He struggled anxious to raise his palm in serene calm and no stress
With friendly peacefully gesture that expressed no harm
He felt compelled to prove to her that he was not like the village rest
His body, his heart bared for her no contest of any kind
But before he could make up his ghastly mind
An old dowager rushed out the hut and sounded the alarm

She immediately gathered back into the hut his eyes revered pleasure
Who would imagine his lost in depth and in measure
For not every day one can lose such a divine treasure
His task disappeared; his song had ceased, the theme
Of such enthralling spell was broken of that protracted dream
For a few gracious moments they were one picture as one team

And thus he stood in the forest thicket long alone
His soul, like the earth after the sun has gone
It grew slowly cool and took a darker hue
He mused at what he saw but in his dreams no comfort drew
A solitary sadness crept into his mind too painful to bare
That sad thought; that loneliness of feeling without her

'How -fair she is; fairer than any flower or grass
'The field's chief flower, she is sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, lovelier than any lass,
More white and red than doves or roses do share;
Nature that made her, with herself at strife,
Faith that the world has ending with your life.'

##5 the first talk asks about name
There was no danger from the summer sky that day
Except the mid-day sun's fierce scorching ray
The birds were gathering on high boughs on a plot of wide land
And some lazily lied on the grass or bathed in the sand
Among the heads of the birds there rose in sight
Small flower heads, high in stems and flaxen white

Above the varied hues of the flower heads and ears
A shining mist like canopy rose to appear
Of flapping butterflies, the kind with rain bow colors light
And some as a grasshopper their wings transparent bright
Scarcely were seen when they were hovering above
As their wings sounded in a murmur as they dodged and rove

Along the emerald grass he followed the trodden path
Until he found her behind the bushes of rough turf
And on one hand she held a wreathed basket in the other a kerchief gleamed
She was occupied like a gaudy caterpillar seemed
That creeps along any green leaf of the plane
He adored her look; her graces and her charms none in vain

He was cautious in moves, focusing on a dandelion he found
To demonstrate that she was not his objective but the feathery flower round
He pretend to long to finger it he tiptoed near
He blew indifferently and all the plume lets seemed to disappear
And all that was left in his hand of them
Was but the naked shaft of a green stem

He mused about her delighting sight against the golden field hue
But from his lovely scenery no comfort drew
A strange never before ecstasy engulfed his mind not knowing why
She was so close at hand making his hopes growing high
For a while towards that shepherdess he strolled and crept
His head was turning and burning his heart leapt

So many graces in that nymph he found
With such imaginings he decked her round
He was close to tell she had such a pretty face
A tall slender stature; not too tall to devoid her grace
Those tender smooth cheeks, that blushing catching liveliness
Limned an excessive, primitive vulgar happiness

He was constantly cautious, with sidelong stealing glance
Not daring to approach her straight, he approached askance
In narrowing circuits like a ploughman in the field goes
But ever closer to his quarry his steps were bold to grow
He wore a straw hat that beneath his chin was tied
It waved like a burdock leaf with every stride

The astonished maid heard him quite well
But she made no reply neither told him any excuse or tale
Behind her he noticed tiny foot's prints impressed
In the fresh balmy grass she just recently had pressed
The outline was distinct but light, a track of one who walk fast
It seemed she scarcely touched the weeds over which she passed

'How -fair she is; fairer than any flower or grass'
'The field's chief flower, she is sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, lovelier than any lass,
More white and red than doves or roses do share;
Nature that made her, with herself at strife,
Faith that the world has ending with your life.

Mushrooms were plenty in summer around the village
And people used to gather them from the forest for ages
Especially the ones which were emblems of health; uneaten by worms
No insect ever lights its limbs upon their diverse forms
The young girls the slender ones pursed
As those mushrooms grow in clusters brood

The other kinds of mushrooms were not favored
Because they were poisonous harmfully or evil-flavored
Though not totally useless since to the forest beasts they were good
Provided shelter to wandering insects and decorated the wood
They could be seen standing upon the grassy cloth in order
Like rows of plates; none extended out of their border

Especially the leafy mushrooms in silver, red and gold
Like cupper goblets that all kind of wine hold
Some people gathered the swelling cups turned upside down
Which usually near the slim like champagne had grown
The kind called Chanterelles that broad and fattish did gleam
Like china coffee cups filled to the full with cream

The Morel which may not look pretty like pepper pot with black
Dust filled; the other all distinction lack
Save the forest beasts wolves, wolverine and hares, yet unrecognized
By the people of the village who shun away with despise
These kids of harmful mushrooms men distain to take
Unless if one may stoop to pick it by mistake

The forest nymph was gathering flowers and mushrooms of any kind
Suddenly she gazed around with distracted mind
Head high in the air; the village lad was too close in tease
A cold spring breeze came down from the foliage trees
She gazed at him trying to study his intentions or guess
If any malice dwelled in his chest

Once she realized his close vicinity
She immediately turned her back to him in timidity
'This fair charmer with such a soft pleasant voice
My heart resigns to his approach making me his choice'
She contemplated silently holding her flower basket
What on awkward feeling she never was such a target

'You are so beautiful, thrice-fairer than any lass in the village square
'The field's glorious flower, so sweet above compare,
A disastrous jealousy to all nymphs, my eyes never fell on such a view
More white and red than doves or roses are in hue
Nature that made you, with herself at strife,
Saying that the world has ended with your life.

'God must have bestowed all kindness in this fellow
To leave the rest of the village people barren with harsh and hatred glow
She was contemplating as she was mulling to stand or to flee
She gently brushed away a persistent forest bee
There were scattered with other insects and butterflies around the bloom of cherry trees
Before the wild crops of different varieties

'Pardon me! ' said the astonished lad 'If I intrude;
It is just that I want to talk to you, with gratitude,
I feel humble for your privacy in the forest being abused
I notice your presence in the forest; I witness your wandering and with lush thicket mused
And I must own my great indebtedness
I hope boldness has not inflected any great distress'

The forest nymph studied the stricken lad in courteous part
Definitely as one not so accustomed to social interaction art
She did not utter a word; she was amazed at the scene of stranger so close
'What a lovely stature' he thought at her charming gown and pose
All around in solemn splendor stood
The glory of spring blooms in the wood

His blood throbbed, in vain he struggled not in his heart to melt
But in his own despite compassion for her he felt
Behind a tree in a watchful silence hiding
He sighted at last and to himself he contemplated chiding
'If I err here I am to blame not she'
And he thrust his head out slowly from the tree

Noticing his move, she abruptly turned her back to him
He was close enough to be enthralled by her figure tall, slander, trim
His efforts to encircle her and face her again
Were matched by her contra reaction, to prove it nothing but in vain
Her skin over her neck and limbs is spread like a dream
All the lights around her turn their heads in shame dim

Her hair twisted in abundance of locks so silky, so wavy and fair
Dancing around and over her radiant face
They taunted and denied the morning breezes from caressing their share
Her long legs were bare, not casted as the village girls in black shoes with bouncing lace
And the dress that she wore put all around her in despair
Like there was no other beauty there

Oh gracious hell!
Where did she get this hailing tail?
Oh hell like from which heaven she stole
The fire that through those silken lashes
In fiercest glances seem to ever roll
From the eyes that cannot hide their flashes

And as her bosom steal
In lengthened flow her raven tresses
No other maid in town can match, be she from the best lasses
He could swear each clustering lock could still
And curled to give her neck caresses
She was unequivocally the center of any grace

He could not stop being amazed, every now and then
His eyes at the garden around the forest hut scanned again
And once it seemed to him that from the house
A dress flashed out, long white and mysterious
Or something falling from the height
Flew through the garden like a beam of light

It seemed to glitter in the plot of cucumbers
As often the rays through after rain clouds appears
And falling in light ploughed field on flint
Or little pane of water makes it glint
The odor of all around bloom cherry trees
And between them corps of all varieties

The garden, was so full with wheat, maize and beans, the bearded barley grew
And peas and millet wild weeds flowers and bushes of different hues
Something had the lush grass stirred
But before he could guess what it was his view suddenly cleared
For immediately a guardian cock stood up front still
And thrashing his legs and throwing back his head he pointed up his bill

His ruddy comb upon one side inclined
It looked like his eye from that side could easily its comb find
Suddenly with slanted head towards the sky he the hovering hawk espied
He screamed his throat out and the hens within the garden did hurry to hide
And even geese rushed by fear
Surprised by the cock alarm, for the scared dove no eaves were near

'Gentle maid wound you please look my way? '
But she kept turning her face away from his, while giggling and being gay
As he made any movement to face hers
She contracted it bending slightly and covering her face behind a bush furze
He was not able to keep up with her swift movements as he had to rush
Seeing through her fingers her face laughing and blush

After several futile circular attempts
He was considering another approach with slower temp
'Well' he started with a gentle voice
To present his another choice
'At list if you may to tell me your name? '
But she stayed stump unwilling to participate in the new game

Seeing her reluctant spirit in the new sport
He immediately offered another one of a nature short
'Let me guess your name' he said 'it must be Elizabeth? '
She nodded her head to signal a negative reply and drew a sighing breathe
'Then it may be Rosalind? ' She turned to him and her hair from her brow she swayed
Again a negative sign by her was displayed

'well if you do not show me your face I will stay here all day
The spirits of the night would turn me into a flower of the field
Next morning you would pluck me from my stem and I will lie in your lap all day
I would listen to your breathe and to any word you would say'
His words startled her; she turned to face him; smug with no guilt
It seems she was about to say something; turned and flew away

##6 conversation
Early the next morning, at the time of the early hours of dawn
He got up and sallied from his cottage door without a word, all alone
Athwart his shoulders no food nor a bow nor arrows he carried
And towards the forest his steps he anxiously hurried.
The village dim lights through shutters he did not acknowledge or say a word
Last night, all night to all his family he was quiet and cold

The morning summer sun her fiery eye was yield
As he BEHOLD her, single roaming in the high wheat field,
She was working brushing ankle-high in a sea of flowers
And he could hear the wind behind playing in thousands waves of golden wheat
He breathed nostrils wide the field sweet
As the cows thick with milk and the buzzing bees honey his hour

In solitary a magnificent blooming, flower field Lass
Reaping and singing by herself in a gentle pass
Alone she cut and bind the ripe golden grain,
While singing a melancholy strain;
Oh as he listened for the vale profound
He was totally overflowing with her sound.

Such a divine voice carried by the wind No Nightingale did ever chant
A More welcome notes never heard to weary bands
Of fatigue travelers in some shady solitary haunt,
As she sang her cheerful melody, she kept at work her white ivory hands
A voice so thrilling never in the meadow was heard
In summer-time from the any bird

She sang for a while as if her song could have no ending;
He watched her thoughtless as she was singing and o'er the sickle bending
He listened, motionless and still;
And, then he mounted up a close by hill,
He knew this music in his heart he bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

He stared astonished at the beauty, and was silent for a while
At length he spoke to her in less exalted style
'I see I spoil your field of wheat and I ask your pardon
Forgive me I tried to take a closer look hurrying through the garden
You have a beautiful harvest at this summer days of late
I can help with loading the piles to the wagon straight'

The forest nymph smiled bewildered and made no reply
'I am from the village that is behind the lake, close to the ridge high
You are so astonishingly beautiful, whatever name be thine
Or a nymph, or ghost, or vision of phantom or divine
Would you say something? Do you come to the world by your volition?
Or by other none celestial order is your condition? '

'She is a treasure of love whatever she may be'
He mused, 'Beautiful lass like her in the village no one can meet or see
Too often a great soul or great thought grows
Alone secluded and secret like a woodland rose
But bring it out to the sun's summer bright rays
And with thousands views and hues it will amaze

Her smile melted his heart, his eyes enthralled to all her stature, all her parts in the sun
He drowned his fear by the utmost craving to speak, to address that beguiling maid
And having gained a modicum of composure he finally began
‘Ah beautiful maid to what name do you answer or turn? '
His face blushed, his inwards did shake, and his flesh did burn
And his mind kept wondering from what materials she was crafted and made

His efforts to face her stature were still in vain
The maid kept turning to keep him out of visual gain
As they both were turning round and round in his frustration he proclaimed
"If you would tell me your name then let me guess which word expresses your name"
And thus he started throwing names as she was nodding a negative sign for each call
Until he exhausted all maiden names he thought would her name claim

'Name? ‘She wondered, 'What does this word mean?
She was astonished being so much uncommon to human's habits and ways
She left her sheath and got closer to him abandoning her usual avoiding days
Inside her there was assurance that village lad meant no harm and bared no intensions mean
Such a creature tall and slim clad with ragged handmade cloths
Her slaying eyes shined in the summer sun were streaming both

He remembered the old lady in the hut where she with forest nymph dwell
Though she did called the lovely maid; he did not hear it well
'The old lady in the house' he said pointing back to the hut behind trees vile
'She is my grandmother' the maid explained with a smile
'Ah, I see, how she call you? How she says come to me'
'My love, sometimes my heart or my little soul' she said looking so kind

Her reply was so timid and shy as the wind blew the curl from her check
Even the snow white steed turned back in curious peek
He immediately rushed to collect and to catch all bundles of golden ripe wheat
And gathered them to be loaded into the wagon with snow white steed
Amazed and confused the shy maid watched the vigorous lad
Strangely a villager with not hate malice seemed so odd

She studied the unknown lad who was smiling pleasantly
Quite plainly grateful for her timid maiden courtesy
An observing which she lowered her eyes and hushed
And like a budding rose in spring all over blushed
He felt awkward for an instance raising slightly his arm
Not too close to her so he would not cause her to be in alarm

In her eyes he was indeed a fine and comely man
His face was long, his cheeks were fresh through wan
With gentle dark brown eyes and long fair hair
The golden straws and tufts of grass were still clinging on him there
Which he had collected through his toil and tried to throw them
And yet they were too stubborn to show like a disordered diadem

She mounted the wagon loaded fully with golden ripe bundles of wheat
And as the reign was pulled the steed burst along the sandy path
The dry dust rouse in twisting column of clouds and whirling circles
Yet through them she endorsed him with craving soft yearning treat
Followed by a feminine bursting laugh
For him it was the best of all miracles

The young lad stood long in the vast meadow of April showers
Gazing, musing, breathing in the fragrance of the fresh spring flowers.
He bent down his face to the violet plants and then
His curious eyes gazed passed over the paths again
And once more to the tiny footprints strayed
He tried to guess by whom they were made

Then, looking up he suddenly caught a phantom sight
Of an young girl, a lovely forest nymph upon the wild roses of white
That to her breast her slender form enclosed
Her statues shoulders and her swain like neck exposed
And she, as if there was none for her to see had pressed
The spring flowers she was holding upon her breast

Her hair was in voluptuous tresses confined
Not like the village lasses their hair into little paper pods twined
She was wonderfully graced in the sunlight shed
A radiance like a halo around her pretty head
Her face was turned down, from sight concealed
As if her eyes were continuously seeking the flowers in the wild field

Mushrooms were plentiful under summer sun
This time she stood there with basket half full and did not run
He noticed she had gathered some of each kind
As she stood and gazed around with uneasy, shy curious mind
The mushrooms were considered emblems of maidenhood; uneaten by worms
No insect ever lights upon their intrigue forms

He watched her, as for piece and solitude it seemed by nature she yearned
And slowly from where he stood her footsteps she in alacrity turned
Towards a hillock, where amid the cool over baring shade
Of thickly and lush growing trees a boulder grayed
From which a gurgling soothing fountain purpled and gushed
And then as though in search of the shadow, rushed

To hide itself in grasses and reeds tall, that rank
It's blue distilled water and therewith grew thick and rank
There that swift wanton, quiet and smug stream curled
And whispered an inland murmur scarcely heard
The hidden stream flew cradled in leaves, in grass swaddled deep
As a human may put his fatigue head to a long sleep

He followed her in a slow pace and but not too far a distance
Just before the wide groove entrance
She stood above the stream and lightly shed
Upon the grass her piece of cloth; a shawl, carnelian red
She knelt and slowly lowered her side
Not minding the little waves that rushed towards her in unseasoned tide

So soon was he along as she was down,
Each were leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Then he slightly stroke her lovely cheek, she started to frown,
And when she chided, he soon stopped her lips;
And kissing spoke between them with lustful language of tongues
'If you chide, your lips shall never open.' she was breathless in her lungs

She was burning breathless with bashful shame
Nothing seemed to quench the maiden burning of her cheeks;
He paused meditating on her windy sighs and her golden hairs
Which fanned and blew his face dry again; a pause she seemed to seek
She turned away; saying he was immodest in a blame
What follows more he murdered with a passionate kiss?

Even as an empty eagle, fierce and sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
Shaking her wings in the zeal of hut, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuffed or prey be gone;
Even so he kissed her brow, her cheek, her hair, her chin,
And where he ended he did anew begin.

Forced to content, but never as her wild nature, to obey,
Panting she lied and breathed into his face;
He feed on the steam as on a prey,
And felt as if it was heavenly moisture, air of grace;
Wishing his cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dewed with such distilling showers.

And thus, alas, how the wild bird lied tangled in a net,
So fastened in his arms she lied browsing the blue skies;
Pure shame and awed resistance made her again fret,
Which bred more beauty in her angry, wildly fierce eyes:
A Continuous rain added to a river that is already rank
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Calmly and silently he watched her beauteous eyes
Suffused with salty tears implore to stay
And heard unmoved in her plenteous sighs,
Which said far more than words can utter or say?
The village tyrannous folks have their deep empathy
For this love connection harmony

Though keen the grief that her tears express,
When love and hope lay both overthrown;
Yet still, this girl, this forest nymph, this bleeding breast
Throbbed, with deep sorrow, as his very own.
The village judges already declared this love deal
Will never grow feathers will know not be real

Where in the forest the acorn at dawn tumbles down,
Where at pathless woods the ash tree sheds its sweet berry,
With your skin and long hair so soft and brown,
With your eyes so fire piercing and merry,
Scarcely moving the along pathless woods with long grass,
The gorgeous maid of the woods, I long to see you pass.

Little thing, my little angle in what dark hut or den,
Lie you all the winter dreaming of bright spring? or sleeping?
Till warm weather to the woods comes again,
Then once more I see you thru trees and lush bushes peeping
Round about the tall tree roots,
Collecting at their fallen fruits.

The maid of the forest; phantom of delight, do not go,
Where the farmers of the village stack their treasure,
Search the forest floor; find the nut that falls below,
Eat the acorn at your pleasure,
But you must not steal a morsel chaff or a grain
They have stacked them with so much labor and pain.

Make your dwell in the forest where mosses spring,
Make it fit underneath the tall oak's shadow,
pretty, quiet harmless thing,
Roam and play about the sunny meadow.
Keep away from village corn and what people made
Keep away and none will harm you, little maid

Call up his father, call him at once to defend his son's horrible deeds
Rouse him: make after him, poison his air and his delight, until he takes heed
Proclaim him in the streets; let him not rest even one second well
And, though he may in a fertile climate dwell,
Plague him with flies and plagues: though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on it; as it may lose some color; be not coy

'The fair witch doubles, doubles, her toils and troubles;
As she prepares the tongues of the fire
To burn under her caldron foaming bubbles.
The fair forest witch never does rest nor tire
Helleway! hellello!
Here comes the forest witch acid stew

A fillet of a fanny scalped snake,
In her caldron boils, fumes and bakes;
She cuts and throws an eye of a newt and toe of a green frog,
Adds a wool of black bat and tongue of a used to howling dog,
An adder's fork would not suffice unless augmented with a blind-worm's sting,
A slender lizard's leg and a long salamander's wing,

For a charm of powerful witchcraft trouble,
Like a hell-broth in her caldron boils and bubbles.
Double, double toils and trouble;
The fire burns and her caldron bubbles.
Then she cools it with a baboon's blood killed by her poisonous dart,
And the charm is final and firm; done her witchcraft.''

He amazed, seeing her in this ongoing distress
Could not help to aid her helplessness
He started brushing her natural gown, bent to her feet
To sweep off the angry roaming ants, who claimed her as a treat?
By chance his lips came nearer to her brow
In such a tender and unpretentious posture, that raised her awe

The night high tide rushed and raked itself upon the stony sandy shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky mossy low echoing caves
The violent wind moaned and mourned the vexed hoarse bay, seeming to deplore
All that were buried in the lake bottom and in the womb of its restless waves
Mined and hammered by corrosive tides, the hollow scared rough rock
Falling it shock the broad beach with long-resounding trembling shock,

It fell prone, and rushing from its lofty turf height,
Loud thundering on the ear of sullen dark, deserted, lonely night;
Above the desolate and stormy bay deep,
Gleamed the wan frightened moon, by floating mist oppress;
Yet here while night fowl, and brood with health, and labor sleep
The waves of the foaming lake sustained their ghost chase

The throng groaned and moaned to make a universal shout
That the nearby lake trembled underneath her banks and shacked out
To hear the replication of their sound
Made in the lake concave shores around
The echo traveled by routes obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels and foul creatures only,

The village bells were ringing dreadfully in storm and from within
The silent enticing spring woods re-echoed a great din
Of people to each other direly crying and hollowing
As if it marked the end of some solemn civil gathering
But yet with means mournful stress that resembled a funeral
Village people that knew better times under circumstances prandial

'Ah frigid winter wind; blow, blow, you winter wind
Your whistle and fierce keen air is not so unkind
As the people village harshness and ingratitude;
Your tooth is not so relentless and keen,
Because you rush and blow the flowers fields and you are not seen,
Although your breath be quite rude my face in the forest you boot'

‘Oh come love don't look sad be happy smile, laugh the forest is a green holly:
Most village friendships if not feigning, most loving mere folly:
Come live with me and be my love in the forest gloom
Where the village rage and hate do not loom
And life among the trees, grass and flower of the field most jolly
And the wind at summer night flows among leaves and awl sighs slowly'

'Something in me grew to like the freezing winter bitter sky,
One can deal with it; it does not bite so nigh
Its maladies I brush off in a way I forgot:
Though it the waters warp,
Its sting is not so sharp
As a friend who his troubles remembers not.'

Return! Return! Return!
His helpless, desolate cries echoed thru the forest deep and convex turns
Upon a dump mossy rock, faint and delirious he stopped and fell
His story was too anguish to carry; too burdening to tell
There was not a joy the world can give, like that it takes away
When the glow and glee of virgin thoughts decline dead, dull and decay

And the night fell on the air quiet chilly but not dark
The village hounds lend their screaming yells and loud bark
The thin gray cloud was spread sparingly on high
It covered but not hided the vaults of the sky
The moon was behind, and at full shape
And yet she seemed remotely small and out of grape

This is all done, and I am shivering in the cold gale
How happy, careless is the beetle that unfurls her plain sail
And soaring over the wavy wind gust
And flies over the refreshing blast
Unlike her I must from this beloved land be part, be gone
The burden is too hard, too suffocating to carry on

I could not have been what the village people have me been
For I could see what I have in this lessen forest nymph seen
Could I repose even once upon the warm breast?
Which constantly my utter happiness blest
I must seek for us both another zone
Leave behind life since I cannot love but that forest nymph one

It has been but yesterday that I saw these slaying eyes
Which gave me such heavenly bliss and the village colossus miseries
They will never understand that even I strive it will be but in vain
Never to think of her again
Once this magic love grabs you; and over you have grown
It will never fade; forever holds you and never be gone

Dreadful voices, ominous bells I am like some lone bird waiting for her mate
My anguish wearies my heart; my soul is desolate
Without her I look around and I cannot trace
Any piece of beauty; I ignore any friendly smile or a welcome face
Even in crowds and in village center I am still isolated and alone
As my sun sunk; as my day is gone

I search that light whose smile kindles the Universe love
Pray the beauty in which all things breath, work and move
The blessing which is out of the mortality domain
That our finitude cannot quench; the benediction that sustains love and spiritual gain
That fire which is in all of the world, on earth, air and sea
These words, these lines consume the clouds of cold mortality beaming on me

The soul and spirit of the Forest Nymph which I have invoked in my song
Descends on me; my spirit sail is forever driven
To remote shores; far from human throng
In voyage full of peril yet never to the tempest given
The soul of the Forest Nymph is like a summer night star
It beacons to me from the Universal abode where the Eternal are

Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved

Topic(s) of this poem: love

Comments about A Forest Nymph by Nero CaroZiv

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 28, 2016

[Report Error]