The Fawn
Edna St. Vincent Millay
1892 to 1950
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There it was I saw what I shall never
And never retrieve.
Monstrous and beautiful to human eyes, to
believe,
He lay, yet there he lay,
Asleep the moss, his head on his polished cleft
small hoves,
The child of the doe, the dappled child the deer.
Surely his mother had never said, "Lie
Till I return," so spotty and plain to
On the green moss lay he.
His eyes had opened; he considered me.
I would have given more than care to say
To thrifty ears, might I have him for my friend
One moment only of that day:
Might I have had the acceptance, not the
Of those clear eyes;
Might I have been for in the bough above
Or the root beneath his bed,
A part of the forest, seen without surprise.
it alarm, or was it the wind of my lest he
depart
That jerked him to his jointy knees,
And sent him crashing off, leaping and stumbling
On new legs, between the stems of the white
trees?