 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
156
PURSUIT
Where the slender stream runs rippling through the woods,
Like a child who sings and dances to a song,
Towards a wildrose lure that evermore eludes,
What has followed, all noon long,
The murmur of a throng,—
Faint voices of the flowers that call in countless multitudes?—
Ah, what, but that dear love of old that still is sweet and strong!
Like a child who sings and dances to a song,
Towards a wildrose lure that evermore eludes,
What has followed, all noon long,
The murmur of a throng,—
Faint voices of the flowers that call in countless multitudes?—
Ah, what, but that dear love of old that still is sweet and strong!
Where the shadowy stream trips whispering on the rocks,
Like a spirit weaving magic in a dell,
Towards a music, at the heart that calls and knocks,
What has tried to read or spell
Every leafy miracle,
That Nature writes within her book of wonders she unlocks?—
Ah, what, but dear desires of old and dreams that still compel!
Like a spirit weaving magic in a dell,
Towards a music, at the heart that calls and knocks,
What has tried to read or spell
Every leafy miracle,
That Nature writes within her book of wonders she unlocks?—
Ah, what, but dear desires of old and dreams that still compel!
Where the little stream slips downward to the pool,
Like a joy into a life that shuts it round,
Where the grasses crown its quiet, deep and cool,
What has caught the soul and bound
With a glimmer and a sound
And charmed it in a place apart that lights make wonderful?—
Ah, what, but oldtime memories that here again are found!
Like a joy into a life that shuts it round,
157
What has caught the soul and bound
With a glimmer and a sound
And charmed it in a place apart that lights make wonderful?—
Ah, what, but oldtime memories that here again are found!
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |