XXIX

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XXIX

Night

I know a little Druid wood

Where I would slumber if I could

And have the murmuring of the stream

To mingle with a midnight dream,

And have the holy hazel trees

To play above me in the breeze,

And smell the thorny eglantine;

For there the white owls all night long

In the scented gloom divine

Hear the wild, strange, tuneless song

Of faerie voices, thin and high

As the bat’s unearthly cry,

And the measure of their shoon

Dancing, dancing, under the moon,

Until, amid the pale of dawn

The wandering stars begin to swoon.⁠ ⁠…

Ah, leave the world and come away!

The windy folk are in the glade,

And men have seen their revels, laid

In secret on some flowery lawn

Underneath the beechen covers

Kings of old, I’ve heard them say,

Here have found them faerie lovers

That charmed them out of life and kissed

Their lips with cold lips unafraid,

And such a spell around them made

That they have passed beyond the mist

And fount eh Country-under-wave.⁠ ⁠…

Kings of old, whom none could save!