Farewell

I leave the world to-morrow, What news for Fairyland? I'm tired of dust and sorrow And folk on every hand. A moon more calm and splendid Moves there through deeper skies, By maiden stars attended She peaces goddes-wise. And there no wrath oppresses, And there no teardrops start, There cool winds breathe caresses, That soothe the weary heart. The wealth the mad world follows Turns ashes in the hand Of him who sees the hollows And glades of Fairyland. And pine boughs sigh no sorrow Where fairy rotas play, I leave the world to-morrow For ever and a day.