Following The Stream
A stream danced by the willow,
Where a maiden, sure and slow,
Unpinned her auburn hair to flow,
As sweet as morning meadow.
And the stream: it danced by leaves,
And stones, and boughs,
And told her of a knight who still believes
In love: the one she allows
In the dark tower of her dreams,
To take a shape that seems
Swift and enchanting,
As this water singing.
From this clearing far, in the vernal light,
Half seen in the forest, rides an armored knight,
Following a stream dancing in the wood,
Knowing not if it could lead him (nor if it should)
To that maiden bright,
Who shimmered in the darkness of his night,
And spoke of beauty and of truth-
The sweet, soft whisperings of his distant youth.