grope for me in vain In hollows under the mangrove root, Or where, in apple-scented rain, The silver wasp-nests hang like fruit. 

    THE FAIRY GOLDSMITH 

   Here's a wonderful thing, A humming-bird's wing In hammered gold, And store well chosen Of snowflakes frozen In crystal cold. 

   Black onyx cherries And mistletoe berries Of chrysoprase, Jade buds, tight shut, All carven and cut In intricate ways. 

   Here, if you please Are little gilt bees In amber drops Which look like honey, Translucent and sunny, From clover-tops. 

   Here's an elfin girl Of mother-of-pearl And moonshine made, With tortoise-shell hair Both dusky and fair In its light and shade. 

   Here's lacquer laid thin, Like a scarlet skin On an ivory fruit; And a filigree frost Of frail notes lost From a fairy lute. 

   Here's a turquoise chain Of sun-shower rain To wear if you wish; And glimmering green With aquamarine, A silvery fish. 

   Here are pearls all strung   On a thread among Pretty pink shells; And bubbles blown From the opal stone Which ring like bells. 

   Touch them and take them, But do not break them! Beneath your hand They will wither like foam If you carry them home Out of fairy-land. 

   O, they never can last Though you hide them fast From moth and from rust; In your monstrous day They will crumble away Into quicksilver dust. 

    "FIRE AND SLEET AND CANDLELIGHT" 

   For this you've striven Daring, to fail:   Your sky is riven Like a tearing veil. 

   For this, you've wasted Wings of your youth; Divined, and tasted Bitter springs of truth. 

   From sand unslaked Twisted strong cords, And wandered naked Among trysted swords. 

   There's a word unspoken, A knot untied. Whatever is broken The earth may hide. 

   The road was jagged Over sharp stones:   Your body's too ragged To cover your bones. 

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