Crow's-Foot.
| Have you noticed that the splendid dreams, the best dreams that there are, Come always in the darkest nights without a single star? When the moonless nights are blackest the best dreams are about; I'll tell you why that should be so and how I found it out. There's a bird who comes at night-time, and underneath his wings, All warm and soft and feathery, lie tiny fairy things; He spreads his wings out widely (you see them, not the dark) And you hear the fairies whispering, "Hush! hush!" "I'll tell you!" "Hark!" The bird is black and feathery, but his feet are made of gold; He chiefly comes in summer-time, for fairies hate the cold; And if the nights are velvet-dark and full of summer airs He lingers till the sun creeps up and finds him unawares. And so you'll see in summer-time, when all the dew is wet, The footprints of his golden claws maybe will linger yet; The little golden flower-buds will gleam like golden grain, And if you pick and cherish them perhaps you'll dream again. |
"Have you ever been up in an aeroplane, Grandpa?" "No, my boy—not yet."