I know a little Druid wood <br />Where I would slumber if I could <br />And have the murmuring of the stream <br />To mingle with a midnight dream, <br />And have the holy hazel trees <br />To play above me in the breeze, <br />And smell the thorny eglantine; <br />For there the white owls all night long <br />In the scented gloom divine <br />Hear the wild, strange, tuneless song <br />Of faerie voices, thin and high <br />As the bat’s unearthly cry, <br />And the measure of their shoon <br />Dancing, dancing, under the moon, <br />Until, amid the pale of dawn <br />The wandering stars begin to swoon. . . . <br />Ah, leave the world and come away! <br /> <br />The windy folk are in the glade, <br />And men have seen their revels, laid <br />In secret on some flowery lawn <br />Underneath the beechen covers, <br />Kings of old, I’ve heard them say, <br />Here have found them faerie lovers <br />That charmed them out of life and kissed <br />Their lips with cold lips unafraid, <br />And such a spell around them made <br />That they have passed beyond the mist <br />And found the Country-under-wave. . . . <br /> <br />Kings of old, whom none could save!<br /><br />Clive Staples Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-ii/
