JOHN K EATS and M ADISON C AWEIN Discover Them Together.

I have heard music as of tiny strings
Fashioned of corn-silk, plucked by silver hands;
I have heard music; as if murmurous wings
Stirred in the air to rouse the elfin bands.
Pallid preludings where the rose-tree stands —
And a voice that sings...

A voice that sings so low, that did not you
Know of the forest spirits, you would think,
It was a wind that passed the woodland through;
And that, among the leaves, the lamps that wink
Are naught but fireflies; that no faeries drink
The midnight dew.

Lilies, whose lantern-light glows on the green,
Bend 'neath the pressure of their tinkling feet;
Daisies and daffodils may now be seen
Gently to bow and sway as if to greet,
And loose a petaled tribute as were meet
A faery queen.

And see, between the boughs, a breathless glance
Of frisking elves that frolic through the night!
Glitter of blade and shimmering sword and lance;
Sparkle of lucent jewels, so richly bright,
One might mistake for flickering moon-beam light
The faeries' dance.

Nearby, behind a soft and cloudy hill,
The faery-lovers from the dance have strayed;
The winds come here on tip-toe and they thrill
With echoes of an elfin serenade...
There is a human footstep in the glade —
And all is still ...

I have heard music — bluebells ringing clear,
And ever faint the veery's rising song.
I have heard faery voices, strangely near,
Coaxing the sleepy flowers to join the throng...
A lush and fragile singing that I long
Once more to hear.