Sophie Jewett

I have read somewhere that the birds of fairyland are white as snow.—W. B. Yeats Where all the trees bear golden flowers, And all the birds are white; Where fairy folk in dancing hours Burn stars for candlelight; Where every wind and leaf can talk, But no man understand Save one whose child-feet chanced to walk Green paths of fairyland; I followed two swift silver wings; I stalked a roving song; I startled shining, silent things; I wandered all day long. But when it seemed the shadowy hours Whispered of soft-foot night, I crept home to sweet common flowers, Brown birds, and candlelight.