The Woods of Westermain

I

Enter these enchanted woods,
You who dare.
Nothing harms beneath the leaves
More than waves a swimmer cleaves.
Toss your heart up with the lark,
Foot at peace with mouse and worm,
Fair you fare.
Only at a dread of dark
Quaver, and they quit their form:
Thousand eyeballs under hoods
Have you by the hair.
Enter these enchanted woods,
You who dare.

II

Here the snake across your path
Stretches in his golden bath:
Mossy-footed squirrels leap
Soft as winnowing plumes of Sleep:
Yaffles on a chuckle skim
Low to laugh from branches dim:
Up the pine, where sits the star,
Rattles deep the moth-winged jar.
Each has business of his own;
But should you distrust a tone,
Then beware …

… Enter these enchanted woods,
You who dare.
…

by George Meredith, 1828 – 1909

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As I mentioned last week, I am starting my year in poetry by featuring poems that concern trees. I am wondering if it is coincidence that both my poems to date are Victorian … The Woods of Westermain is a rather long poem, and quite “dense” in terms of word style and material as well, which is why I’ve only used an excerpt today — but I think it gives you the “feel” of the work.

Also on trees, check out Sunday’s post on “treemail”: love letters to Melbourne’s trees.