The Fairies' Cave.
106
To weave, with her white, a goddess hand,
Sweet melodies for fairy-land;
Sweet melodies for fairy-land;
For, in the blue fire of her eyes,
A shadow groweth deeper
As she doth slowly realise
That mortals cannot keep her,
In these cold modern days that come
Her voice and lute stow surely dumb.
A shadow groweth deeper
As she doth slowly realise
That mortals cannot keep her,
In these cold modern days that come
Her voice and lute stow surely dumb.
For who of us can learn her ways,
Here in the world's loud clamour,
When we would fain repeat her lays,
We fail with feeble stammer,
And sweet Euterpe's eyes are wet
That we can thus her voice forget.
Here in the world's loud clamour,
When we would fain repeat her lays,
We fail with feeble stammer,
And sweet Euterpe's eyes are wet
That we can thus her voice forget.
But ah! the little fairy folk
Are gay and glad for ever,
They never feel the crushing yoke
Of life and life's endeavour.
Their little feet are light for aye
To dance beneath the moon's white ray.
Are gay and glad for ever,
They never feel the crushing yoke
Of life and life's endeavour.
Their little feet are light for aye
To dance beneath the moon's white ray.
