The Faery Pipe

Woods of wonder, wonder ways, Where the Faery Piper plays, Bidding all to up and follow Over haunted hill and hollow, And behold again the Fays Whirling in a moonlit maze. He whom once our Childhood knew, Piper of the Dream-come-true; Who with music reared us towers Of Adventure, where the Hours Wove enchantments; peopled too With the deeds of Daring-do. Oh, to hear the pipe he blows Saying all of Let's-Suppose! Who once bade us brave the danger Of the Dragon, for the stranger, Princess, who, to tell her woes, Dropped from her high Tower a rose. She, for whom we would have died, To whose Tower the pipe was guide, And from Witchcraft's power delivered. How the dungeon-tower shivered When our trumpet blast defied, Challenging its giant pride! Oh, again to stand and see Vision grow reality! Hear the Elfland bugles blowing, And, beyond all seeing, knowing, Gallop to our empery There again in Faërie! Oh, again to leave regret, Fever of the world and fret! Tears and loss and work and worry! For the Land of Song and Story, For that Land none can forget, Of which Thought is minion yet. . . . Woods of wonder, wonder ways, Where the Faery Piper plays, Saying, 'Quit your melancholy! Leave the world of work and folly! Follow me to where the Fays Trip it as in Childhood's days.'