Enid Derham

I leave this world to-morrow,—

What news for Fairyland?

I'm tired of dust and sorrow

And folk on every hand.

A moon more calm and splendid

Moves there through deeper skies,

By maiden stars attended

She peaces goddess-wise.

And there no wrath oppresses,

And there no teardrops start,

There cool winds breathe caresses,

That soothe the weary heart.

The wealth the mad world follows

Turns ashes in the hand

Of him who sees the hollows

And glades of Fairyland.

And pine boughs sigh no sorrow

Where fairy rotas play,—

I leave the world to-morrow

For ever and a day.


Go Back