The Changeling

My father was a golden king, My mother was a shining queen; I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . . They wrapped me in a mantle green.

They led their winged white horses out, We rode and rode till dawn was grey; We rode with many a song and shout,  "Over the hills and far away."

They stole the crying human child, And left me laughing by the fire; And that is why my heart is wild, And all my life a long desire . . .

The old enchantments hold me still . . . And sometimes in a waking trance I seek again the Fairy Hill, The midnight feast, the glittering dance!

The wizard harpers play for me, I wear a crown upon my head, A princess in eternity, I dance and revel with the dead . . .

"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry, I listen to their weary truth; Then turn again to fantasy, And the untroubled Land of Youth.

I hear the laughter of the kings, I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . . O wine of Life! . . . immortal things Move in the splendour of my dream . . .

My spirit is a homing dove . . . I drain a crystal cup, and fall Softly into the arms of Love . . . And then the darkness covers all.

 

 

 

 

A Song Against Care

 O Care! Thou art a cloak too heavy to be borne, Glittering with tears, and gay with painted lies (For seldom—seldom art thou stained and torn, Showing a tattered lining, and the bare Bruised body of thy wearer); thou art fair To look at, O thou garment of our pride! A net of colours, thou dost catch the wise; He lays aside his wisdom for thy sake . . . And Beauty hides her loveliness in thee . . . And after . . . when men know the agony Of thy great weight of splendour, and 

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