Amongst the folded hills
The forest ripples
Dripping 
Down into the valleys, 
Then 
Clambers back up 
Towards heaven 

A Saxon Lord, a hunter
Atop his white and noble steed
His kinsmen close behind him 
Hounds baying at the Stag
They pursue 
Charges through the sunlight
Dappled green
Painted on his brow

Concentrated on his quest
Divided from his clan
Appearing in his vision
A group of maidens 
Dancing 
In a glade of sheer luminance 

In their midst, one
Exquisite in her artistry
Flowers embroidered in her 
Golden hair
Shimmering in Elfin melodies 
Entrancing in its harmony 

He stood 
Drowning in her beauty

Bewitched 

Knowing

Never again could he be 
Without
His Fairy Queen