'The faieries gave him the propertie of the Thracian stone; for who toucheth it is exempted from griefe.' <br />The fairies to his cradle came to play their fairy part, <br />Their footsteps like the laughter of a leaf; <br />They touched him with the Thracian stone that setteth free the heart <br />—O dream-enchanted, singing heart!—forever free from grief. <br />The wind it could not blow a way that failed to please him well; <br />Beyond the rain he saw the March skies blue <br />With hope of April violets; he cast his fairy spell <br />Over our flawed and tarnished world, creating all things new. <br />He bore the burden of his day, the burden and the heat, <br />As blithely as a seagull breasts the gale, <br />Glorying that God should trust his strength. The color of ripe wheat <br />Was on his life when it was flung beneath pain's threshing-flail. <br />He fronted that grim challenge like some resplendent knight <br />Who rides against foul foes of fen and wood; <br />With ringing song of onset, his spirit, hero bright, <br />Went tilting with a sunbeam against the dragon brood. <br />Then dusky shapes stole on him, Queen of the Quaking Isle, <br />Queens of the Land of Longing and the Waste; <br />He bowed him to their bidding with a secret in his smile; <br />He quaffed their bitter cups that left ambrosia on the taste. <br />Last came the King of Terrors, and lo! his iron crown <br />Had twinkled to a silver fairy-cap; <br />Like two old friends they took the road to Love-and-Beauty town, <br />That's here and there and everywhere on all the starry map.<br /><br />Katharine Lee Bates<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-thracian-stone/
