First Praise

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splintering leaf-tread with thee on before, White, slender through green saplings; I have lain by thee on the brown forest floor Beside thee, my Lady.

Lady of rivers strewn with stones, Only thou art my Lady. Where thousand the freshets are crowded like peasants to a fair; Clear-skinned, wild from seclusion They jostle white-armed down the tent-bordered thoroughfare Praising my Lady.