The Old Road to Paradise/Unspelled
UNSPELLED
The world of dream is shattered; hill and tree And wingéd music and enchanted lawn; For someone signed the cross, and suddenly Our faëryland was gone:
The dark fell swiftly on the fear-struck land And mocking echoes cried across the chill; The wailing woodfolk fled us . . . but your hand Held close to my hand still.
Oh, what are woodland dream and fluting reed, Red glamor of enchanted jewel-stone? I pass the ruined faëry gates indeed . . . But not alone.