The sun weaves its mystery of shadow in the forest
And the river flows, like my though, pensive and serene.
A gray mist soon will strangle the shadows in the forest.
The day elves will disappear in their holes in the air.
And the river will fade from my sight like a sweet thought forgotten.
Benjamin De Casseres.
Source: The Sun, May 3, 1916, Section 6, p. 11