Daphne

When green as a river was the barley,

Green as a river the rye,

I waded deep and began to parley

With a youth whom I heard sigh.

'I seek', said he, 'a lovely lady,

A nymph as bright as a queen,

Like a tree that drips with pearls

Her shady locks of hair were seen;

And all the rivers became her flocks

Though their wool you cannot shear,

Because of the love of her flowing locks,

The kingly sun like a swain came strong,

Unheeding of her scorn,

Wading in deeps where she has lain,

Sleeping upon her riven lawn

And chasing her starry satyr train.

She fled, and changed into a tree,

That lovely fair-haired lady...

And now I seek through

the sere summer

Where no trees are shady!'