Explore "The Naiad" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ She sits among the iris stalks / Of babbling brooks; and leans for hours / Among the river's lily flowers, / Or on their whiteness walks: / Above dark forest pools, gray rocks / Wall in, she leans with dripping locks, / And listening to the echo, talks / With her own face -- Iothera.
/ There is no forest of the hills, / No valley of the solitude, / Nor fern nor moss, that may elude / Her searching step that stills: / She dreams among the wild-rose brakes / Of fountains that the ripple shakes, / And, dreaming of herself, she fills / The silence with 'Iothera.'