Poems (Greenwell)/Seeking
SEEKING.
"And where, and among what pleasant places,
Have ye been, that ye come again
With your laps so full of flowers, and your faces
Like buds blown fresh after rain?"
"We have been," said the children speaking
In their gladness, as the birds chime
All together,—"we have been seeking
For the Fairies of olden time;
For we thought, they are only hidden—
They would never surely go
From this green earth all unbidden,
And the children that love them so;
Though they come not around us leaping,
As they did when They and the World
Were young, we shall find them sleeping
Within some broad leaf curled;
For the lily its white doors closes
But only over the bee,
And we looked through the summer roses,
Leaf by leaf, so carefully;
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;
As we left, by the brook-side lying,
The balls of drifted foam,
And brought (after all our trying)
These Guelder-roses home."
Have ye been, that ye come again
With your laps so full of flowers, and your faces
Like buds blown fresh after rain?"
"We have been," said the children speaking
In their gladness, as the birds chime
All together,—"we have been seeking
For the Fairies of olden time;
For we thought, they are only hidden—
They would never surely go
From this green earth all unbidden,
And the children that love them so;
Though they come not around us leaping,
As they did when They and the World
Were young, we shall find them sleeping
Within some broad leaf curled;
For the lily its white doors closes
But only over the bee,
And we looked through the summer roses,
Leaf by leaf, so carefully;
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;
As we left, by the brook-side lying,
The balls of drifted foam,
And brought (after all our trying)
These Guelder-roses home."
"Then, oh!" I heard one speaking
Beside me soft and low,
"I have been, like the blessed children seeking,
Still seeking, to and fro;
Yet not, like them, for the Fairies,—
They might pass unmourned away
For me, that had. looked on angels—
On angels that would not stay;
No! not though in haste before them
I spread all my heart's best cheer;
And made love my banner o'er them,
If it might but keep them here;
They stayed but a while to rest them;
Long, long before its close,
From my feast, though I mourned and prest them.
The radiant guests arose;
And their flitting wings struck sadness
And silence; never more
Hath my soul won back the gladness,
That was its own before.
No; I mourned not for the Fairies
When I had seen hopes decay,
That were sweet unto my spirit
So long; I said, 'If they,
That through shade and sunny weather
Have twined about my heart,
Should fade, we must go together,
For we can never part!'
But my care was not availing,
I found their sweetness gone;
I saw their bright tints paling;—
They died; yet I lived on.
Beside me soft and low,
"I have been, like the blessed children seeking,
Still seeking, to and fro;
Yet not, like them, for the Fairies,—
They might pass unmourned away
For me, that had. looked on angels—
On angels that would not stay;
No! not though in haste before them
I spread all my heart's best cheer;
And made love my banner o'er them,
If it might but keep them here;
They stayed but a while to rest them;
Long, long before its close,
From my feast, though I mourned and prest them.
The radiant guests arose;
And their flitting wings struck sadness
And silence; never more
Hath my soul won back the gladness,
That was its own before.
No; I mourned not for the Fairies
When I had seen hopes decay,
That were sweet unto my spirit
So long; I said, 'If they,
That through shade and sunny weather
Have twined about my heart,
Should fade, we must go together,
For we can never part!'
But my care was not availing,
I found their sweetness gone;
I saw their bright tints paling;—
They died; yet I lived on.
"Yet seeking, ever seeking,
Like the children, I have won
A guerdon all undreamt of,
When first my quest begun.
And my thoughts come back like wanderers,
Out-wearied, to my breast;
What they sought for long they found not,
Yet was the Unsought best.
For I sought not out for crosses,
I did not seek for pain;
Yet I find the heart's sore losses
Were the spirit's surest gain."
Like the children, I have won
A guerdon all undreamt of,
When first my quest begun.
And my thoughts come back like wanderers,
Out-wearied, to my breast;
What they sought for long they found not,
Yet was the Unsought best.
For I sought not out for crosses,
I did not seek for pain;
Yet I find the heart's sore losses
Were the spirit's surest gain."