Michael Shindler Biography

We walk on the forest floor, you and I,
Beyond the bounds of lined fields and firelight,
Seeing only shapes of the wild and sky,
So that all the world seems one woodland-sight,
...

'My daughter, my only daughter,
What a strange crown you wear
Here on this lonesome riverbank
In the cold morning air.
...

Sing now child in the valley-glade.
Fret not over the blind judgment
Of hyacinths bright and fragrant
Or high pines yielding welcome shade.
...

Before first-frost enfolds the woodland glade,
Compelling fowl and foliage to flight,
Anoint the earth with balm of prayers prayed.
...

Before night climbs over the barricade,
And impels men to hoist-up flags of white,
Enshroud the silence in a serenade.
...