A Satyr Song

I know by the stir of the branches
The way she went;
And at times I can see where a stem
Of the grass is bent.
She’s the secret and light of my life,
She allures to elude;
But I follow the spell of her beauty
Whatever the mood.

I have followed all night in the hills,
And my breath is deep,
But she flies on before like a voice
In the vale of sleep.
I follow the print of her feet
In the wild river bed,
And lo, she calls gleefully down
From a cliff overhead.