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1865–1914

THE DRYAD.

Madison Julius Cawein

I have seen her limpid eyes Large with gradual laughter rise Through wild-roses’ nettles, Like twin blossoms grow and stare,

Then a hating, envious air Whisked them into petals. I have seen her hardy cheek Like a molten coral leak

Through the leafage shaded Of thick Chickasaws, and then, When I made more sure, again To a red plum faded.

I have found her racy lips, And her graceful finger-tips, But a haw and berry; Glimmers of her there and here,

Just, forsooth, enough to cheer And to make me merry. Often on the ferny rocks Dazzling rimples of loose locks

At me she hath shaken, And I've followed —‘ twas in vain — They had trickled into rain Sun-lit on the braken.

Once her full limbs flashed on me, Naked where some royal tree Powdered all the spaces With wan sunlight and quaint shade,

Such a haunt romance hath made For haunched satyr-races. There, I wot, hid amorous Pan, For a sudden pleading ran

Through the maze of myrtle, Whiles a rapid violence tossed All its flowerage,—‘ twas the lost Cooings of a turtle.

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THE DRYAD. · Madison Julius Cawein · Poetry Cove