The Bullfinches

Bother Bulleys, let us sing      From the dawn till evening! -     For we know not that we go not      When the day's pale pinions fold      Unto those who sang of old.      When I flew to Blackmoor Vale,      Whence the green-gowned faeries hail,     Roosting near them I could hear them      Speak of queenly Nature's ways,      Means, and moods, - well known to fays.      All we creatures, nigh and far      (Said they there), the Mother's are:     Yet she never shows endeavour      To protect from warrings wild      Bird or beast she calls her child.      Busy in her handsome house      Known as Space, she falls a-drowse;     Yet, in seeming, works on dreaming,      While beneath her groping hands      Fiends make havoc in her bands.      How her hussif'ry succeeds      She unknows or she unheeds,     All things making for Death's taking!      - So the green-gowned faeries say      Living over Blackmoor way.      Come then, brethren, let us sing,      From the dawn till evening! -     For we know not that we go not      When the day's pale pinions fold      Unto those who sang of old.