**

*

I adjure you, wake not my head –
I sleep upon the toadstools soft.
How like a rain of listless drops
The running dew drips on my bed.

Comfort me with candied pears
When I awake. Shall it be long
’Til I recall my love is gone
And languishes I know not where?

Upon the hills, upon the heights,
The dove’s asleep, and does not sing.
And under green trees flourishing,
The lamb rests in the shepherd’s sight.

By the oak I laid me down;
I drifted into reverie.
It is a place much people see…
But nothing’s taken that’s there found.

“I come this way not soon,” she said.
“I wander long upon this world.”
Around the roots my limbs are curled –
And I adjure you, wake not my head.

*