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indian-pipe

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For other versions of this work, see Indian-Pipe.

INDIAN-PIPE

Table of Contents

In the heart of the forest arising,

Slim, ghostly, and fair,

Ethereal offspring of moisture,

Of earth and of air;

With slender stems anchored together

Where first they uncurl,

Each tipped with its exquisite lily

Of mother-of-pearl;

'Mid the pine-needles, closely enwoven

Its roots to embale—

The Indian-pipe of the woodland,

Thrice lovely and frail!

Is this but an earth-springing fungus—

This darling of Fate

Which out of the mouldering darkness

Such light can create?

Or is it the spirit of Beauty,

Here drawn by love's lure

To give to the forest a something

Unearthy and pure:

To crystallize dewdrop and balsam

And dryad-lisped words

And starbeam and moonrise and rapture

And song of wild birds?