Gazing Doe from Tispur by Tispur

Stop to watch those hills carry mane like lace and lone oak under clouds which lie brave with winged wave of feather-folk 

No ancient hand on wand

No being spoke this to being 


I was a gazing doe 

I want to be as wild as the wicked wind,
though pass like a soft breeze 


I remember that I thought one could gain wings
and that things do fade with ease and gentle bidding to the light 

Like ancient hand on wand, what magic that would be!


I was a gazing doe 

I want to live as wild as the wicked wind,
though die like a soft breeze 

Elder hills roll white with a cold fanfare 

and I, a gazing doe, have learned to graze elsewhere

• Folk
• chamber folk
• dream folk
• dreamfolk
• magical realism
• practical magic
• Portland