The Winter Moon

Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose,
  A face of icy fire, o'er the hills;
  With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills,
  And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows:
  Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goes
  To her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fears
  Fix demon eyes behind each bush she nears;
  Stops, yet must on, fearful of following foes.
  And so I chased her, startled in the wood,
  Like a discovered Oread, who flies
  The Faun who found her sleeping, each nude limb
  Glittering betrayal through the solitude;
  Till in a frosty cloud I saw her swim,
  Like a drowned face, a blur beneath the ice.