p. 23

XIII

I LOVE the oak-grove where the Druid’s knife Cut down the mistletoe in days of old; I love the elms around the convent fold Where souls escape the dust of highway life.

LOVE

I love to watch the tiny milk-white spires That on the chestnut branches lift their head; I love to see the rowan growing red With clusters bright as frosty winter fires.

But better still I love you, firs that crest The lonely hill above the moaning firth, Beside the path where bluebells gently nod.

To your grey arms, ere sunset leaves the West, I can confide each sorrow at its birth, For you have known the waves and storms of God.

p. 24XIV GOOD-BYE

p. 24

XIV

Sing me one more villanelle, Light as elfin foot that brushes Through the ferns and foxgloves of the fairy dell.

Sing

Come where woodland spices smell, Where the wild rose faintly flushes, Sing me one more villanelle.

Rare as snowy heather bell, Sweet as melody of thrushes Through the ferns and foxgloves of the fairy dell.

When the shade creeps up the fell Mid the parting sun’s last blushes, Sing me one more villanelle.

p. 25Sing it to the curfew knell, Where the streamlet plays with rushes Through the ferns and foxgloves of the fairy dell.

p. 25

Let it breathe no sad farewell, Only mirth with silent hushes. Sing me one more villanelle Through the ferns and foxgloves of the fairy dell.

p. 26XV THE FAIRY GLEN REVISITED

p. 26

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