flower at dawn with roses red and white . . .
And flame at sunset gold and amethyst . . .

How delicately steps the autumn day
In azure cloak and gown of ashen grey
Over the level country that I love . . .

And how my heart that all sweet things beguile
Goes laughing with her for a little while . . .
And then turns homeward like a weary dove.

Angels

When life is difficult, I dream
Of how the angels dance in heaven!
Of how the angels dance and sing
In gardens of eternal spring,
Because their sins have been forgiven . . .
And never more for them shall be
The terrors of mortality!
When life is difficult, I dream
Of how the angels dance in heaven . . .

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 would shake
Thee