 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
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THE PATH TO YESTERDAY
There's a path that leads to Yesterday—you know it;
A rambling path of flowers and perfume:
You remember how the wild grapes overgrow it
To the house upon the hilltop deep in bloom.
A rambling path of flowers and perfume:
You remember how the wild grapes overgrow it
To the house upon the hilltop deep in bloom.
There's a path that leads to Yesterday through flowers,
Where the veery is a voice of wandering song;
Where the cricket snaps its faery whip for hours,
And a barefoot boy goes whistling all day long.
Where the veery is a voice of wandering song;
Where the cricket snaps its faery whip for hours,
And a barefoot boy goes whistling all day long.
There's a path that leads to Yesterday through dingles,
Mossed and ferny, where the wood pool is an eye,
And the sunbeam is a twinkle there that mingles
With the gladness of a girl that dances by.
Mossed and ferny, where the wood pool is an eye,
And the sunbeam is a twinkle there that mingles
With the gladness of a girl that dances by.
There's a path that leads to Yesterday, a-glimmer
With the pearl and purple footsteps of the Dusk;
Where the first star leaps and flashes, like a swimmer,
On the violet verge of twilight washed with musk.
With the pearl and purple footsteps of the Dusk;
Where the first star leaps and flashes, like a swimmer,
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There's a path that leads to Yesterday that's haunted
With the shadows of old memories of bliss,
And the ghosts of loves that roamed there once, who counted
Every moment by a heart-beat or a kiss.
With the shadows of old memories of bliss,
And the ghosts of loves that roamed there once, who counted
Every moment by a heart-beat or a kiss.
Hark—the path that leads to Yesterday is calling!—
Don't you hear it? how it calls through many things!
Through its roses, like the memories now falling,
And the dream-like nestward fluttering of wings.
Don't you hear it? how it calls through many things!
Through its roses, like the memories now falling,
And the dream-like nestward fluttering of wings.
On the path that leads to Yesterday we've started!—
Hear it calling with its many whippoorwills!—
Like the voices of old Happiness departed,—
Through the darkness, where the moon rests on the hills.
Hear it calling with its many whippoorwills!—
Like the voices of old Happiness departed,—
Through the darkness, where the moon rests on the hills.
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |