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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 57 |
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That virtue comes of Faery-fern, Lone-lived where hill-slopes starward turn Thro' frore night hours that bid it burn Flame-fronded in the moonlight; |
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For this holds true—too true, alas ! The sky that eve was clear as glass, Yet no man saw the Faeries pass
Where azure pathways glisten; And true it is—too true, ay me — That nevermore on lawn or lea Shall mortal man a Faery see,
Though long he look and listen.
Only the twilit woods among
A wild-winged breeze hath sometimes flung
Dim echoes borne from strains soft-sung
Beyond sky-reaches hollow; Still further, fainter up the height, Receding past the deep-zoned night — Far chant of Fays who lead that flight,
Faint call of Fays who follow: |
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{Fays following.') Red-rose mists o'erdrift
Moth-moon's glimmeringwhite, Lit by sheen-silled west Barred with fiery bar ; Fleeting, following swift, Whither across the night Seek we bourne of rest ?
{Fays leading.') Afar. |
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