A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)Blackwood, Algernon
Science
A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)
Blackwood, Algernon
Magic -- Fiction; Voyages and travels -- Fiction
sang Rogers, following swiftly with Jimbo and his sister. For all
moved along as easily as light across the surfaces of polished glass.
And the sound of Rogers's voice seemed to bring singing from every
side, as the gay procession swept onwards. Every one contributed lines
of their own, it seemed, though there was a tiny little distant voice,
soft and silvery, that intruded from time to time and made all wonder
where it came from. No one could see the singer. At first very far
away, it came nearer and nearer.
DADDY. 'The Interfering Sun has set!
GARDENER. Now Sirius flings down the Net!
LAMPLIGHTER. See, the meshes flash and quiver,
As the golden, silent river
SWEEP. Clears the dark world's troubled dream.
DUSTMAN. Takes it sleeping,
Gilds its weeping
With a star's mysterious beam.
Tiny, distant Voice. Oh, think Beauty!
It's your duty!
In the Cave you work for others,
All the stars are little brothers;
ROGERS. Think their splendour,
Strong and tender;
DADDY. Think their glory
In the Story
MOTHER. Of each day your nights redeem?
Voice (nearer). Every loving, gentle thought
Of this fairy brilliance wrought,
JANE ANNE. Every wish that you surrender,
MONKEY. Every little impulse tender,
JIMBO. Every service that you render
TANTE ANNA. Brings its tributary stream!
TRAMP AND GYFSY. In the fretwork
Of the network
Hearts lie patterned and a-gleam!
WOMAN OF THE Think with passion
HAYSTACK. That shall fashion
Life's entire design well-planned;
Voice (still nearer). While the busy Pleiades,
ROGERS. Sisters to the Hyades,
Voice (quite close). Seven by seven,
Across the heaven,
ROGERS. Light desire
With their fire!
Voice (in his ear). Working cunningly together in a soft and
tireless band,
Sweetly linking
All our thinking,
In the Net of Sympathy that brings back
Fairyland!'
Mother kept close to her husband; she felt a little bewildered, and
uncertain in her movements; it was her first conscious experience of
being out. She wanted to go in every direction at once; for she knew
everybody in the village, knew all their troubles and perplexities,
and felt the call from every house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account