Go inside, and you shall find
One thousand words to hence unbind
This enchanted image that lingers on
And haunts my heart like halcyon...

O weaving spell of mysteria
Winding ‘round my heart as wisteria!
Night-raven’s hair,
Black as pitch there

Against white, satin skin,
Soft as luminous sin
Shining in the heart of the Wild;
Communing the ways of the Faery Childe.

Bark of the wood twines in dance
Beneath the nymph’s starry glance...
This gothic dryad come home to call—
Everything from spring to winter’s summer’s fall.

The wind’s orchestra provides the chorus
For the reveling trees to ensnare and adore us,
As the night’s nymph wanders through—
And the boughs did bend as she flew

Into ancient arms
Of a canopy of forest charms...
Where there she dwells
In her white satin spells

Amid branches and tangles
That she wears as bangles
Upon gleaming skin,
Alight from within

And kissed by the moon’s
Silvered, celestial tunes.
This one, this nymph of raven hair
Entices me into the tangled wood there.

As I enter, I have found
From these words I am bound
To her spells, and it does seem,
I have known this woodnymph in many a dream...