If that you ride by road or lane
In the September dark,
When there is neither mist nor rain,
And nothing can you mark
But a tall darkness for a tree,
And for the road a gleam of white,
And scent of leaves breathed heavily,
It is a fairy night.
Brief is the kingdom--nine hours long--
That the good people hold,
But it is full of whispered song,
In the crisp breezes cold.
And every dell, a darkling round
Of shadow, when the moon is none,
Holdeth a little chattering sound,
Which cometh, and is gone.
1914.