35 Heedless, assuaged, art thou sleeping Where the spring sun cannot find thee, Nor the wind waken, nor woodlands Bloom for thy innocent rapture Through golden hours?

Each, by the aid of axe and brand, cleared his patch of corn land in the forest, close to some clear, swift-flowing stream, and by his skill with the rifle won from canebrake and woodland the game on which his family lived until the first crop was grown.

Under the crimson sunset sky Virginian woodlands leafless lie, In wintry torpor bleak and dun.

Earth with heaven above rejoices; Fields and gardens hail the spring; Shaughs and woodlands ring with voices, While the wild birds build and sing.

When, after storms that woodlands rue, To valleys comes atoning dawn, The robins blithe their orchard-sports renew; And meadow-larks, no more withdrawn, Caroling fly in the languid blue; The while, from many a hid recess, Alert to partake the blessedness, The pouring mites their airy dance pursue.

Thus did Beltane bid farewell to the greenwood and to woodland things, and thus did the green spirit of the woods send forth a gentle wind to kiss him on the brow ere