Unto the soul’s companionship
Of things that only seem to be,
Earth points with magic finger-tip
And bids thee see
How Fancy keeps thee company.
For oft at dawn hast not beheld
A spirit of prismatic hue
Blow wide the buds, which night hath swelled?
And stain them through
With heav’n’s ethereal gold and blue?
While at her side another went
With gleams of enigmatic white?
A spirit who distributes scent,
To vale and height,
In footsteps of the rosy light?
And oft at dusk hast thou not seen
The star-fays bring their caravans
Of dew, and glitter all the green,
Night’s shadow tans,
With drops the rain-hung cobweb spans?
Nor watched with these the elfins go
Who tune faint instruments—that sound
Like that moon-music insects blow?—
Then haunted ground
Thou hast not trodden, never found!
WOOD-WORDS
I
The spirits of the forest,
That to the winds give voice—
I lie the livelong April day
And wonder what it is they say
That makes the leaves rejoice.
The spirits of the forest,
That breathe in bud and bloom—
I walk within the haw-tree brake
And wonder how it is they make
The bubbles of perfume.