Mysterious lady walks through the morning glade,
a veil of icy dew, to her feet adheres

Birds alight on her hands, she is their chorus maid,
her presence, it wakes the buck and deer

Nymphs and Elves shy away, in awe of her beauty,
her magic, an untold secret of the dell

The forest is her home, where all other creatures retire,
even Diana falls under her spell

Flakes of frost settle on her golden hair, dancing, fleeting,
as the sunshine warms the cold air

Waxwing's tinkling little bell, berries dropped as a gift,
she smiles, her face so pure and fair

The forest stirs - all of nature acknowledging her,
birds serenade with antiphonal calls,

Too soon, the Solstice looms, the winter beseeching her,
For she is the Queen of the Fall