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Where dips the rocky highland |
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Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, |
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There lies a leafy island |
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Where flapping herons wake |
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The drowsy water-rats; |
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There we've hid our faery vats, |
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Full of berries |
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And of reddest stolen cherries. |
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Come away, O human child! |
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To the waters and the wild |
|
With a faery, hand in hand, |
|
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. |
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Where the wave of moonlight glosses |
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The dim grey sands with light, |
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Far off by furthest Rosses |
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We foot it all the night, |
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Weaving olden dances, |
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Mingling hands and mingling glances |
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Till the moon has taken flight; |
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To and fro we leap |
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And chase the frothy bubbles, |
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While the world is full of troubles |
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And is anxious in its sleep. |
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Come away, O human child! |
|
To the waters and the wild |
|
With a faery, hand in hand, |
|
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. |
|
Where the wandering water gushes |
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>From the hills above Glen-Car, |
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In pools among the rushes |
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That scarce could bathe a star, |
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We seek for slumbering trout |
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And whispering in their ears |
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Give them unquiet dreams; |
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Leaning softly out |
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From ferns that drop their tears |
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Over the young streams. |
|
Come away, O human child! |
|
To to waters and the wild |
|
With a faery, hand in hand, |
|
For to world's more full of weeping than you can understand. |
|
Away with us he's going, |
|
The solemn-eyed: |
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He'll hear no more the lowing |
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Of the calves on the warm hillside |
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Or the kettle on the hob |
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Sing peace into his breast, |
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Or see the brown mice bob |
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Round and round the oatmeal-chest. |
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For he comes, the human child, |
|
To the waters and the wild |
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With a faery, hand in hand, |
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From a world more full of weeping |
|
than he can understand. |
