The Dwellers Therein

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The Dwellers Therein

Down a warm alley, early in the year,

Among the woods, with all the sunshine in

And all the winds outside it, I begin

To think that something gracious will appear,

If anything of grace inhabit here,

Or there be friendship in the woods to win.

Might one but find companions more akin

To trees and grass and happy daylight clear,

And in this wood spend one long hour at home!

The fairies do not love so bright a place,

And angels to the forest never come,

But I have dreamed of some harmonious race,

The kindred of the shapes that haunt the shore

Of Music’s flow and flow for evermore.