Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/55

But we thought, rolled up we shall find them
 Among mosses old and dry;
From gossamer threads that bind them,
 They will start like the butterfly,
All winged: so we went forth seeking,
 Yet still they have kept unseen;
Though we think our feet have been keeping
 The track where they have been,
For we saw where their dance went flying
 O'er the pastures—snowy white
Their seats and their tables lying,
 O'erthrown in their sudden flight.
And they, too, have had their losses,
 For we found the goblets white
And red in the old spiked mosses,
 That they drank from over-night;
And in the pale horn of the woodbine
 Was some wine left, clear and bright;
But we found," said the children speaking
 More quickly, "so many things.
That we soon forgot we were seeking—
 Forgot all the Fairy rings,
Forgot all the stories olden
 That we hear round the fire at night,
Of their gifts and their favours golden,—
 The sunshine was so bright;
And the flowers—we found so many
 That it almost made us grieve
To think there were some, sweet as any,
 That we were forced to leave;