Water nymph, you are the gentle wind Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells Of blue echinacea spiriting the light— Echoing sound which water makes, ring The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark, The dance of bees, who trace your honey Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine. The miraculous waters are floored under Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness. Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon; Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?