The Lost Forest
 

    I WALKED with my mother
       Where the tall trees grow,
    And she showed me tiny tables
       Where the elves sit in a row,
    And the bells that ring to call them
       When the night winds blow.

    There were small frosted toadstools,
       And little cups of wine,
    And velvet banks to rest on
       Where moss grew thick and fine,
    And a smooth brown ring for dancing
       Underneath a pine.

    But now when I go walking
       All the way is clear;
    The little bells are silent
       And the moss grown sere,
    And I know that in the moonlight
       Not an elf comes near.

        Aline Kilmer