The Dance Of The Fairies

On the glimmering coppice, From her shadowy hair, Long, silvery poppies Of moon-litten air The Night hath flung there.

In the fern-fronded hollow The fireflies stream, Uncertainly follow, With lanterns of gleam, Some spirit or dream.

The forest is fragrant; The night-hazes swirl And trail,--through the vagrant Deep ferns that unfurl,-- Faint footsteps of pearl.

From hill and from valley, Where the moon is at home; From rocks,--musically,-- Where singing streams comb Wild tresses of foam;

With a ripple and twinkle Of luminous arms, And footfalls that tinkle The darkness, in swarms Of flower-like forms:

We speed to the revel From bloom and from brier, With locks that dishevel, And feet, like the fire, Winged wild with desire.

Like the wind on the mountain, We circle and dance; Like the foam of the fountain, That sings of romance, We glimmer and glance.

Swift, swift we go swinging Down the slanted moonbeam, In spirals faint flinging A rainbow-rayed gleam On sward and on stream.

You may hear, like a murmur, The swirl of our hair; Our footfall; no firmer Than leaves on the air When branches blow bare.

To men who are favored In spiritual wise, Whose hearts have not quavered To see us, we rise And doff all disguise.

Come away then, come hither, In the moon-blossomed night! Ere the star-flowers wither, And Morning, the white, Reaps, mows them with light.

Come hither, where singing Sounds softer than tears, Or kisses, sweet clinging, Or music one hears With memory's ears.

Come join us, whose kisses Are waiting for you; Come, catch at our tresses, And dance through the dew! Come away, and pursue!

Come, come to the coppice, The violet ridge; The torrent, whose top is A rainbow,--a bridge We tread like the midge.--

Come, mortal, come hither! Come dance with your dreams, Ere the golden spark wither Of the glow-worm that gleams Like a star in still streams.