The Dream of the Children

The children awoke in their dreaming         While earth lay dewy and still:     They followed the rill in its gleaming         To the heart-light of the hill.          Its sounds and sights were forsaking         The world as they faded in sleep,     When they heard a music breaking         Out from the heart-light deep.          It ran where the rill in its flowing         Under the star-light gay     With wonderful colour was glowing         Like the bubbles they blew in their play.          From the misty mountain under         Shot gleams of an opal star:     Its pathways of rainbow wonder         Rayed to their feet from afar.          From their feet as they strayed in the meadow         It led through caverned aisles,     Filled with purple and green light and shadow         For mystic miles on miles.          The children were glad;    it was lonely         To play on the hill-side by day.     "But now," they said, "we have only         To go where the good people stray."          For all the hill-side was haunted         By the faery folk come again;     And down in the heart-light enchanted         Were opal-coloured men.          They moved like kings unattended         Without a squire or dame,     But they wore tiaras splendid         With feathers of starlight flame.          They laughed at the children over         And called them into the heart:     "Come down here, each sleepless rover:         We will show you some of our art."          And down through the cool of the mountain         The children sank at the call,     And stood in a blazing fountain         And never a mountain at all.          The lights were coming and going         In many a shining strand,     For the opal fire-kings were blowing         The darkness out of the land.          This golden breath was a madness         To set a poet on fire,     And this was a cure for sadness,         And that the ease of desire.          And all night long over Eri         They fought with the wand of light     And love that never grew weary         The evil things of night.          They said, as dawn glimmered hoary,         "We will show yourselves for an hour;"     And the children were changed to a glory         By the beautiful magic of power.          The fire-kings smiled on their faces         And called them by olden names,     Till they towered like the starry races         All plumed with the twilight flames.          They talked for a while together,         How the toil of ages oppressed;     And of how they best could weather         The ship of the world to its rest.          The dawn in the room was straying:         The children began to blink,     When they heard a far voice saying,         "You can grow like that if you think!"          The sun came in yellow and gay light:         They tumbled out of the cot,     And half of the dream went with daylight         And half was never forgot. --July 15, 1896