Elf

Elf that dangles Hanging On a thread Spun a blue spider Thousand of meters Above the low hills and The town That froths of day. You Will not own the earth You Are addicted to the Higher spheres And to the music of The airy zones. You Will not wish to lie A skeleton of bones Within a tomb Nor feel the seeping Waters of a cemetery: Nor The lone warbling of a Sad bird near: No, No, you will burn with fire To see Below The Dawn arising in the morn New day There burn with sweet desire When tired night-Earth has Been nursed and cared: And Albeit convalescing rising Brave To a new day Another newer day There There you will want There desire There be.