A woman remembers walking with her mother through a woods that once teemed with hidden life. Her mother showed her tiny tables set for elves, little bells that rang in the night wind, toadstools dusted with frost, and cups of wine — details that made the forest feel like a secret, enchanted place. There was even a smooth ring under a pine where the elves danced. Now the speaker goes back alone, and everything has changed. The path is bare, the bells are silent, the moss is dry and brittle. She knows that moonlight brings no elves anymore. The poem captures the ache of losing a child’s imagination and the closeness of sharing that magic with someone who helped create it. The mood is quiet and wistful, like holding a faded photograph — tender, yet full of a gentle grief for something that simply can’t be found again.
The Lost Forest — Summary
I walked with my mother Where the tall trees grow, And she showed me tiny tables Where the elves sit in a row, And the bells that ring to call them When the night winds blow.
There were small frosted toadstools, And little cups of wine. And velvet banks to rest on Where moss grew thick and fine, And a smooth brown ring for dancing Underneath a pine.
But now when I go walking All the way is clear; The little bells are silent And the moss grown sere, And I know that in the moonlight Not an elf comes near.