IN THE SMALL HOURS

I lay in my bed and fiddled

With a dreamland viol and bow,

And the tunes flew back to my fingers

I had melodied years ago.

It was two or three in the morning

When I fancy-fiddled so

Long reels and country-dances,

And hornpipes swift and slow.

And soon anon came crossing

The chamber in the gray

Figures of jigging fieldfolk -

Saviours of corn and hay -

To the air of “Haste to the Wedding,”

As after a wedding-day;

Yea, up and down the middle

In windless whirls went they!

There danced the bride and bridegroom,

And couples in a train,

Gay partners time and travail

Had longwhiles stilled amain!...

It seemed a thing for weeping

To find, at slumber's wane

And morning's sly increeping,

That Now, not Then, held reign.