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
Bathing in deeps where she has lain
Sleeping upon her river 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. "