Enter FANTASY, who speaks: GENTLES, just now I met an elf Who crooked mid-air his finger joint To beckon me, poising himself Sheer on a shining question-point; And there he cried: "Who may @3you@1 be? Where are you bound, if one may ask? What are these birds that hold a masque? What @3is@1 a masque? What witchery Can cause my woodland boughs to grace This walled and crowded shut-in place? How may divine Aurora rise Under a roof? That parchment scroll — What's written there?" — I said: "Replies To elves like you, who claim their toll Of answers." So I cast my eyes Downward, and read this from my roll: I Follow me, Gentles! Follow me By hidden paths, for I am Fantasy: — Between the ear and what is heard, Betwixt the eye and what is seen, Midway the poet and his word I hold my shadowy demesne. And there to-night I act a thing — Nor drama nor lyric but mid-way — Wrought for my fairy folk to sing And real folk to play. Your nature critic does not ask Robin to nest with wren, Yet both are birds: Why argue, then, What drama is, or masque? My theatre's art is nature's, when It serves the creator's task. II Then, follow me, Gentles, if you will! To follow means but tarry still Here in your seats, for I will bring Horizons for your journeying, Till soon this many-murmured hall Shall be for you a silent wood, Where we may watch, through leafy solitude, Quercus the faun, and hear his echo call In sighing surds The vowel-bubbling birds, And spy where Dawn steals past with pale footfall. III Come, then, for this can only be If you will follow Fantasy. No magic is, except through me; Yet I myself can nothing do Alone; my radiance 'tis from you. For if in woods I walk alone No light will be around me thrown; And if alone you walk the woods, Your eyes will blink through darkening hoods. IV Come, then, together let us go, As birds and men together meet Where boughs are dim and woodlands sweet With meditation. Meeting so, My simplest arts Will serve to please you, and unblind Your own rapt vision; for kind hearts Need no compulsion to be kind To their own natures. So the mind Amongst you which shall act most feelingly My simple masque, and find the fewest flaws, Shall win my best award, and he (or she) Be showered by my players' glad applause. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE by EMILY DICKINSON ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: EURIPIDES by ARISTOPHANES MORNING TWILIGHT by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT by GIORDANO BRUNO TO A SWALLOW BUILDING UNDER THE EAVES [AT CRAIGENPUTTOCK] by JANE WELSH CARLYLE |