A Satyr Song

I know by the stir of the branches The way she went; And at times I can see where a stem Of the grass is bent. She’s the secret and light of my life, She allures to elude; But I follow the spell of her beauty Whatever the mood. I have followed all night in the hills, And my breath is deep, But she flies on before like a voice In the vale of sleep. I follow the print of her feet In the wild river bed, And lo, she calls gleefully down From a cliff overhead.