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BY
LORD DUNSANAY
and the church's steeple,
From our little fields under grass or grain
I'm gone away to the fairy people
I. Shall not come to the town again.
You may see one come to my mother's door
Who may speak my words and may wear my dresses.
She will not be I, for I come no more.
You may ask of me where the herons are
In the open marsh when the snipe are homing.
Or when no moon lights nor a single star.
On stormy nights when the streams are foaming
And a hint may have my haunts afar.
With the reeds my floor and my roof the gloaming.
But I come no more to Ballynar.
To call me back, for I am this day
From blessings far, and beyond curses.
No heaven shines where we ride away.
With the gods of old and the sons of Finn,
With the queens that reigned in the olden fables
And kings that won what a sword can win.
You may hear us streaming above your gables
On nights as still as a planet's spin,
But never stir from your chairs and tables
To call my name, I shall not come in.
Make the most of that other child
Who prays with you by the village steeple
I am gone away to the woods and wild.
And whither riding no man may tell;
But I shall look upon all your faces
No more in Heaven or Earth or Hell
e gloa
GREEN III§
INDEX PAGETENDERLY
YOURS
GREEN
IIIIS