BROTHER Bulleys, let us sing From the dawn till evening! - For we know not that we go not When to-day's pale pinions fold Where they be that 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 Where those be that sang of old. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: MRS. GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FOR AN ALLEGORICAL DANCE OF WOMEN (BY ANDREA MANTEGNA) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI COLORED HEROES, HARK THE BUGLE; POLITICAL by ROBERT CHARLES O'HARA BENJAMIN LIFE'S CURTAIN by EMMA MAGIN BISSELL |