Who ventures to the Magic Wood?
Who dares the moonlit way,
Full perilous in the silver flood,
Though safe enough by day?
Who brushes through the mystic dew
To hear the flute of Pan,
And spy upon our dancing crew?
Beware, O Maid, O Man!
The Wee Folk lurk behind the trees
And ambush in the fern;
Our mischief whispers in the breeze—
Ye Trespassers, return!
Enchanted, each to each shall seem
Transfigured and divine;
Your faces with strange beauty gleam,
Your lips hold maddening wine.
You shall forget for what you seek;
Careless of all about,
Hand clasped to hand and cheek to cheek,
Sport for the elfin rout.
We tangle never to be free
The feet that tread too far.
Beware the moonlight witchery,
The magic of a star!