| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 987. Ecce in Deserto |
| | | By Henry Augustin Beers |
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| THE WILDERNESS a secret keeps | |
| Upon whose guess I go: | |
| Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard; | |
| And yet I know, I know, | |
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| Some day the viewless latch will lift, | 5 |
| The door of air swing wide | |
| To one lost chamber of the wood | |
| Where those shy mysteries hide,— | |
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| One yet unfound, receding depth, | |
| From which the wood-thrush sings, | 10 |
| Still luring in to darker shades, | |
| In—in to colder springs. | |
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| There is no wind abroad to-day. | |
| But hark!—the pine-tops’ roar, | |
| That sleep and in their dreams repeat | 15 |
| The music of the shore. | |
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| What wisdom in their needles stirs? | |
| What song is that they sing? | |
| Those airs that search the forest’s heart, | |
| What rumor do they bring? | 20 |
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| A hushed excitement fills the gloom, | |
| And, in the stillness, clear | |
| The vireo’s tell-tale warning rings: | |
| “’T is near—’t is near—’t is near!” | |
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| As, in the fairy-tale, more loud | 25 |
| The ghostly music plays | |
| When, toward the enchanted bower, the prince | |
| Draws closer through the maze. | |
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| Nay—nay. I track a fleeter game, | |
| A wilder than ye know, | 30 |
| To lairs beyond the inmost haunt | |
| Of thrush or vireo. | |
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| This way it passed: the scent lies fresh; | |
| The ferns still lightly shake. | |
| Ever I follow hard upon, | 35 |
| But never overtake. | |
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| To other woods the trail leads on, | |
| To other worlds and new, | |
| Where they who keep the secret here | |
| Will keep the promise too. | 40 |
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