Farewell

I LEAVE the world to-morrow,—  
 What news for Fairyland?  
I’m tired of dust and sorrow  
 And folk on every hand.  
 
A moon more calm and splendid  
 Moves there through deeper skies,  
By maiden stars attended  
 She peaces goddes-wise.  
 
And there no wrath oppresses,  
 And there no teardrops start,  
There cool winds breathe caresses,  
 That soothe the weary heart.  
 
The wealth the mad world follows  
 Turns ashes in the hand  
Of him who sees the hollows  
 And glades of Fairyland.  
 
And pine boughs sigh no sorrow  
 Where fairy rotas play,—  
I leave the world to-morrow  
 For ever and a day.