I came upon a little town, That slumbered in the harvest moon, And passed a-tiptoe up and down, Murmuring, to a fitful tune, How I have followed, night and day, A tramping of tremendous feet, And saw where this old tympan lay, Deserted on a doorway seat, And bore it to the woods with me; Of some unhuman misery Our married voiced wildly trolled. _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old._ I sang how, when day's toil is done, Orchil shakes out her long dark hair That hides away the dying sun And sheds faint odours through the air: When my hand passed from wire to wire It quenched, with sound like falling dew, The whirling and the wandering fire; But lift a mournful ulalu, For the kind wires are torn and still, And I must wander wood and hill Through summer's heat and winter's cold. _They will not hush, the leaves a-flutter round me, the beech leaves old._ THE STOLEN CHILD Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berries, And of reddest stolen cherries. _Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances, Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. _Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams, _Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand._ Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal-chest. _For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, From a world more full of weeping than he can understand._ TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes, And lays them in a row. To an isle in the water With her would I go.