The Elfmaid
             As I was ranging through the woods,
             I heard a twig-snapping sound.
             Instantly, as anybody should,
             I froze and looked all around.

             No clue could I see
             As to who might be there,
             As to who might be sharing the woods with me.
             I turned... and she was there.

             Frozen, as I was, still,
             Head cocked to one side.
             Flowing locks of golden hair spilled,
             As though the sun had chosen to ride

             Atop her brow. Pointed ears
             And eyes of shining aspen-leaf green
             Made her look a little queer,
             But as beautiful a person as I'd ever seen.

             Her slim-fingered hands clasped a rose.
             She wore a glimmering golden gown.
             Put attributes like those
             With skin as soft as duck down

             And perhaps you can see her
             As I saw her then.
             Motionless, back to her
             Forest home, in a grassy glen.

             She was an elf, that was sure.
             But when I tried to speak,
             She turned and walked away, her
             Footsteps not making a single squeak.

             For a moment we were face to face,
             In a regular, unmagical woods,
             Two creatures of different races.
             Oh, how dearly I would

             Love to meet again that elfmaid,
             As, once, I met her.
             I'd tell her she had no need to be afraid,
             That I would never harm her.

             But, she didn't seem afraid
             Or the least bit apprehensive of me.
             I wonder what could have made
             Her stand and stare. Curiosity?

             But her vanishing as she had come
             Told me, sadly certain, then
             That the time had not yet come
             For a remeeting between elves and men.