His Lady queen of woods to meet,
He wanders day and night:
The leaves have whisperings discreet,
The mossy ways invite.
Across a lustrous ring of space,
By covert hoods and caves,
Is promise of her secret face
In film that onward waves.
For darkness is the light astrain,
Astrain for light the dark.
A grey moth down a larches’ lane
Unwinds a ghostly spark.
Her lamp he sees, and young desire
Is fed while cloaked she flies.
She quivers shot of violet fire
To ash at look of eyes.