The Secret Land

Where the tallest tree trunks stand,

I found a green and russet land

Of criss-cross root and toadstool tree

And vines that twisted cunningly

Round sunken doors to hidden halls.

There thinnest threads of waterfalls

Forever let their brightness pass

In silver showers on the grass.

I listened—but all else I heard

Were nibbling mouse and twit'ring bird

And laughter light as air.

If feet had passed that way, they made

No print on moss, nor bent one blade

Of all that green; yet I could see

The shine of small eyes watching me

With still, unblinking stare.