Explore "The Spirit of the Forest Spring" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Over the rocks she trails her locks, / Her mossy locks that drip, drip, drip; / Her sparkling eyes smile at the skies / In friendship-wise and fellowship; / While the gleam and glance of her countenance / Lull into trance the woodland places, / As over the rocks she trails her locks, / Her dripping locks that the long fern graces.
She pours clear ooze from her heart's cool cruse, / Its crystal cruse that drips, drips, drips; / And all the day its diamond spray / Is heard to play from her finger-tips; / And the slight soft sound makes haunted ground / Of the woods around that the sunlight laces, / As she pours clear ooze from her heart's cool cruse, / Its dripping cruse that no man traces.