I have a brother cleped Fairy-Gold,
Who dwelleth not in housen nor with men,
But in the dim wood and the forest hold;
Full fair is he in form: full young, full old;
Of all the wild things in the grot and glen,
Of many a brown shy wood-bird am I told,
Of every leaf and blade on fell and fen,
I have a brother cleped Fairy-Gold.
And all that e’er was made in nature’s mould,
And everything of beauty she doth own
Is but a part of gentle Fairy-Gold,
Whose murmured tale to those who hear is told,
Whose varied beauty to the wind is thrown,
Whose eyes smile forth from copses dark and old--
Or are they flowers in wind-swept riot grown?
Both flowers, and eyes of laughing Fairy-Gold.
The kind earth to her bosom doth him fold,
Her light swift hands, the breezes, stroke his hair,
Which glow of yellow wheat doth catch and hold,
And down in rich and heavy locks is rolled:
He is for mortal eyes but all too fair,
He hath not age: I in his haunts am told
By myriad voices whispering in the air,
I have a brother cleped Fairy-Gold.
1912.