Poems (Tynan)/Mushrooms

by Katharine Tynan

MUSHROOMS

These be the mushroom days, and lo!
The mushroom rings so darkly grow,
Round as a wedding-ring, and set
With pearls like any carcanet.

Who made the rings so fine and round
Twined in and out by hollow and mound?
And who hath summoned mushrooms hither,
Here where the fairies dance together?

Here are the tracks of feet that went
Before the day, in dew and scent,
Before the dew was dried, and trod
The mushroom-strewn and emerald sod.

Who were the early risers, who
That in the gray dusk and the dew
Brushed with their cloaks the gossamer,
And set the shivering grass astir?

The owl his counsel well doth keep;
The wood-dove she was fast asleep;
The lark was up too late to see
The mushrooms gather on hill and lea.

The earth-bound corncake, she might know,
But that she went a month ago
To Egypt, where she lieth hid
Sand-deep beside a pyramid,

Nursing her honey-voice. Well then
The mystery, mystery must remain;
Since eyes of birds nor human eyes
No fairy secret shall surprise;

Of who in dew and dawn did fashion
The fairy rings in sweet rotation,
And set the mushrooms in the ring,
And who came hither mushrooming.