  "The Nine men's morrice is filled up with mud ... From our debate, from our dissension." —Shakespeare I 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. Chorus.—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. II 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. III 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. IV 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. V 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. VI 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. VII 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. |
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