TWILIGHT ON THE SNOW
Reading edition
Before the hill’s high altar bowed The trees are Druids, weird and white, Facing the vision of the light With ancient lips to silence vowed. No certain sound the woods aver, Nor motion save of formless wings— Filled with faint twilight flutterings, With thronging gloom, and shadow-stir. And hidden in a hollow dell, Lie all the winds that magic trees Have lulled with crystal wizardries, And bound about with Merlin-spell.