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And one night's rest shall be a myriad, Midst dreams that come and go; Till heedless fate, unmoved by weakness, bring him This same strange by-way through:
To the beauty of earth that fades in ashes, The lips of welcome, and the eyes More beauteous than the feeble shine of Hesper Lone in the lightening skies:
Till once again the Witch's guile entreat him; But, worn with wisdom, he Steadfast and cold shall choose the dark night's Inhospitality.
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AS LUCY WENT A-WALKING
As Lucy went a-walking one morning cold and fine, There sate three crows upon a bough, and three times three is nine: Then "O!" said Lucy, in the snow, "it's very plain to see A witch has been a-walking in the fields in front of me."
Then stept she light and heedfully across the frozen snow, And plucked a bunch of elder-twigs that near a pool did grow: And, by and by, she comes to seven shadows in one place Stretched black by seven poplar-trees against the sun's bright face.
She looks to left, she looks to right, and in the midst she sees A little pool of water clear and frozen 'neath the trees; Then down beside its margent in the crusty snow she kneels, And hears a magic belfry a-ringing with sweet bells.
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Clear sang the faint far merry peal, then silence on the air, And icy-still the frozen pool and poplars standing there: Then lo! as Lucy turned her head and looked along the snow She sees a witch--a witch she sees, come frisking to and fro.
Her scarlet, buckled shoes they clicked, her heels a-twinkling high; With mistletoe her steeple-hat bobbed as she capered by; But never a dint, or mark, or print, in the whiteness for to see, Though danced she high, though danced she fast, though danced she lissomely.
It seemed 'twas diamonds in the air, or little flakes of frost; It seemed 'twas golden smoke around, or sunbeams lightly tossed; It seemed an elfin music like to reeds and warblers rose: "Nay!" Lucy said, "it is the wind that through the branches flows."
And as she peeps, and as she peeps, 'tis no more one, but three, And eye of bat, and downy wing of owl within the tree, And the bells of that sweet belfry a-pealing as before And now it is not three she sees, and now it is not four--
"O! who are ye," sweet Lucy cries, "that in a dreadful ring, All m.u.f.fled up in brindled shawls, do caper, frisk, and spring?"
"A witch, and witches, one and nine," they straight to her reply, And looked upon her narrowly, with green and needle eye.
Then Lucy sees in clouds of gold green cherry trees up-grow, And bushes of red roses that bloomed above the snow; She smells, all faint, the almond-boughs blowing so wild and fair And doves with milky eyes ascend fluttering in the air.
Clear flowers she sees, like tulip buds, go floating by like birds, With wavering tips that warbled sweetly strange enchanted words; And, as with ropes of amethyst, the boughs with lamps were hung, And cl.u.s.ters of green emeralds like fruit upon them clung.
"O witches nine, ye dreadful nine, O witches seven and three!
Whence come these wondrous things that I this Christmas morning see?"
But straight, as in a clap, when she of Christmas says the word, Here is the snow, and there the sun, but never bloom nor bird;
Nor warbling flame, nor gleaming-rope of amethyst there shows, Nor bunches of green emeralds, nor belfry, well, and rose, Nor cloud of gold, nor cherry-tree, nor witch in brindle shawl, But like a dream that vanishes, so vanished were they all.
When Lucy sees, and only sees three crows upon a bough, And earthly twigs, and bushes hidden white in driven snow, Then "O!" said Lucy, "three times three is nine--I plainly see Some witch has been a-walking in the fields in front of me."
THE WORLD OF DREAM
BEWARE!
An ominous bird sang from its branch "Beware, O Wanderer!
Night 'mid her flowers of glamourie spilled Draws swiftly near:
"Night with her darkened caravans, Piled deep with silver and myrrh, Draws from the portals of the East, O Wanderer near.
"Night who walks plumed through the fields Of stars that strangely stir-- Smitten to fire by the sandals of him Who walks with her."
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SOME ONE
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Some one came knocking At my wee, small door; Some one came knocking, I'm sure--sure--sure; I listened, I opened, I looked to left and right, But nought there was a-stirring In the still dark night; Only the busy beetle Tap-tapping in the wall, Only from the forest The screech-owl's call, Only the cricket whistling While the dewdrops fall, So I know not who came knocking, At all, at all, at all.
MUSIC
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When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, And all her lovely things even lovelier grow; Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.
When music sounds, out of the water rise Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes, Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face, With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.
When music sounds, all that I was I am Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came; While from Time's woods break into distant song The swift-winged hours, as I haste along.
HAUNTED
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The rabbit in his burrow keeps No guarded watch, in peace he sleeps; The wolf that howls in challenging night Cowers to her lair at morning light; The simplest bird entwines a nest Where she may lean her lovely breast, Couched in the silence of the bough.
But thou, O man, what rest hast thou?