Too late they come, too late for you,
These old friends that are ever new,
Enchanted in our volume blue.
For you ere now have wandered o'er
A world of tales untold of yore,
And learned the later fairy lore!
Nay, as within her briery brake,
The Sleeping Beauty did awake,
Old tales may rouse them for your sake.
And you once more may voyage through
The forests that of old we knew,
The fairy forests deep in dew,
Where you, resuming childish things,
Shall listen when the Blue Bird sings,
And sit at feasts with fairy kings,
And taste their wine, ere all be done,
And face more welcome shall be none
Among the guests of Oberon.
Ay, of that feast shall tales be told,
The marvels of that world of gold
To children young, when you are old.
When you are old! Ah, dateless when,
For youth shall perish among men,
And Spring herself be ancient then.