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She's the darling of the woodland,
And I seek her endlessly.
In the mountains fields and meadows,
Searching every bush and tree.
A forgotten nature's angel
Sent from Heaven's land on high.
Just to charm the modern woodsman
And the birds when passing by.
I see flashes of her image
Just before I turn my head.
When I look, I then see nothing.
Only gold, and green, and red.
With its bright array of flowers
Peeping through its stand of trees,
In what portion of this kingdom
Does she drift on nature's breeze?
While I cherish every moment
In my search for nature's charm,
I have failed to calm her senses
And assuage her quick alarm.
If I find her, I will tell her;
There should be no fear of me.
For I only want to see her
As she is, or wished to be.
Just a darling of the woodland,
And my fairy tale so true.
Giving birth to my illusion;
That she might, by chance, be you.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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