The Hermit

Alone I wandered o'er the hills to seek the hermit's den,
While sounds of chopping rang around the forest's leafy glen.
I passed on ice across the brook which had not ceased to freeze,
As the slanting rays of afternoon shot sparkling through the trees.

I found he did not joy to gloat o'er fetid wealth by night.
But far from taint, to watch the deer in the golden morning light

My mind was clear at coming; but now I've lost my guide,
And rudderless my little bark is drifting with the tide!