The Goblin Laugh

When I behold how men and women grind And grovel for some place of pomp or power, To shine and circle through a crumbling hour, Forgetting the large mansions of the mind, That are the rest and shelter of mankind; And when I see them come with wearied brains Pallid and powerless to enjoy their gains, I seem to hear a goblin laugh unwind.

And then a memory sends upon its billow Thoughts of a singer wise enough to play, Who took life as a lightsome holiday: Oft have I seen him make his arm a pillow, Drink from his hand, and with a pipe of willow Blow a wild music down a woodland way.