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