— SHAKESPEARE

Fairies, come back! We have not seen

Your dusky foot-prints on the green

This many a year. No frolic now

Shakes the dew from the hawthorn-bough.

Never a man and never a maid

Spies you in the blue-bell shade;

Yet, where the nine men's morrice stood,

Our spades are clearing out the mud.

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

Fairies, come back! Our pomp of gold,

Our blazing noon, grows grey and old;

The scornful glittering ages wane:

Forgive, forget, come back again.

This is our England's Hallowe'en!

Come, trip it, trip it o'er the green,

Trip it, amidst the roaring mart,

In the still meadows of the heart.

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

Fairies, come back! Once more the gleams

Of your lost Eden haunt our dreams,

Where Evil, at the touch of Good,

Withers in the Enchanted Wood:

Fairies, come back! Drive gaunt Despair

And Famine to their ghoulish lair!

Tap at each heart's bright window-pane

Thro’ merry England once again.

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

Fairies, come back! And, if you bring

That long-expected song to sing,

Ciss needs not, ere she welcomes you,

To find a sixpence in her shoe!

If, of the mud he clears away,

Tom bears the ignoble stain to-day,

Come back, and he will not forget

The heavens that yearn beyond us yet.

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

Yet, if for this you will not come,

Your friends, the children, call you home,

Fairies, they wear no May-day crowns,

Your playmates in those grim black towns

Look, fairies, how they peak and pine,

How hungrily their great eyes shine!

From fevered alley and foetid lane

Plead the thin arms — Come back again!

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

We have named the stars and weighed the moon,

Counted our gains and... lost the boon,

If this be the end of all our lore —

To draw the blind and close the door!

O, lift the latch, slip in between

The things which we have heard and seen,

Slip thro’ the fringes of the blind

Into the souls of all mankind.

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.

Fairies, come back! Our wisdom dies

Beneath your deeper, starrier skies!

We have reined the lightning, probed the flower:

Bless, as of old, our twilight hour!

Bring dreams, and let the dreams be true,

Bring hope that makes each heart anew,

Bring love that knits all hearts in one;

Then — sing of heaven and bring the sun!

Come, little irised heralds, fling

Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing

The bright eyes and the cordial hand

Of brotherhood thro’ all our land.