Deep in the woods, amid the giant trees
It lies alone within an open space,
Beloved in summer by the sylvan race
Of God's best poets—birds and golden bees;
Diana's mirror, full of memories
Of all the nameless wonder of her face
And of the myriad jewel-stars that grace
Orion's glory and the Pleiades.

Behold it now, all ghostly white and still,
Shut in the shadow of the ice and snow,
A solitary, sad, forsaken thing;
Bereft of beauty, marred and dark until
Diana comes again and looks to know
Her luring smile—the loveliness of Spring!