Pixie-Led

A breath on my forehead, A laugh in my ear, A shrill sound of fairy pipes Blowing near and clear. Away from home and kindred And out of street and town, I wandered with the fair folk Towards the mountain brown. They led me through the livelong day By field and moorland wide, With a pattering of wee feet Running close beside. And when I thought I saw them, O nothing could I find, Only a dry leaf on the road Dancing in the wind. The light was dead suddenly, And hills shut me in: The curlews cried in the grey dusk Across the gorse and whin, Between the wild waste of the moor And the great lonely sky, And the stream upon its cold stones Sobbing wearily.