In the high bowers of the birch tree
A smile can be seen
Playing between the golden shadows.
A laugh,
Free like the winds of autumn,
Rich like the summer soil
Primeval yet fresh,
Like spring
That has always come
Since the earth was new.
Slender fingers
Grasp the bough,
And bare feet,
Wet with the dawn dew
Touch the earth.
The morning light dances upon the pool;
The sun's daily rejoicing.
In a flash of blue and auburn
A score of birds take flight
From their high night roosts.
And the nymph,
She weaves her way through the fluttering aspens,
Seeking out the pear tree
That every morning she gathers from.
The ripened fruit are heavy on their twigs.
The laden branch is grateful for her hunger,
And a swift twist is more than enough
To send the pear cascading into her silken skirt.

And when the sun is over high,
She will rest in a meadow
Outside the shaded forest.
And the all the life of the world
Will hum about her in jubilance.
Yet she is oblivious in her slumber.

Before the twilight settles,
She will step through the white blossoms
That line the river bank.
And picking nimbly the reeds that grow there
She begins a river-basket
For to contain some nuts.

These nuts she finds
From recesses of the wood
Not known to humankind.
And such nuts are these that give strength
Even in the bitterest and darkest of nights,
For they are faeries' food.

Even as dusk descends on the sky,
The nymph is still smiling.
In memory of past joys
And hope of the next sun.
She smiles
As night sinks upon the wood.