PART IV

THE END OF THE QUEST

Like the dawn upon a dream Slowly through the scented gloom Crept once more the ruddy gleam O’er the friendly nursery room. There, before our waking eyes, Large and ghostly, white and dim, Dreamed the Flower that never dies, Opening wide its rosy rim.

Spreading like a ghostly fan, Petals white as porcelain, There the Flower of Old Japan Told us we were home again; For a soft and curious light Suddenly was o’er it shed, And we saw it was a white English daisy, ringed with red.

Slowly, as a wavering mist Waned the wonder out of sight, To a sigh of amethyst, To a wraith of scented light. Flower and magic glass had gone; Near the clutching fire we sat Dreaming, dreaming, all alone, Each upon a furry mat.

While the firelight, red and clear, Fluttered in the black wet pane, It was very good to hear Howling winds and trotting rain. For we found at last we knew More than all our fancy planned, All the fairy tales were true, And home the heart of fairyland.

EPILOGUE

Carol, every violet has Heaven for a looking-glass!

Every little valley lies Under many-clouded skies; Every little cottage stands Girt about with boundless lands; Every little glimmering pond Claims the mighty shores beyond; Shores no seaman ever hailed, Seas no ship has ever sailed.

All the shores when day is done Fade into the setting sun, So the story tries to teach More than can be told in speech.

Beauty is a fading flower, Truth is but a wizard’s tower, Where a solemn death-bell tolls, And a forest round it rolls.

We have come by curious ways To the Light that holds the days; We have sought in haunts of fear For that all-enfolding sphere: And lo! it was not far, but near.

We have found, O foolish-fond, The shore that has no shore beyond.

Deep in every heart it lies With its untranscended skies; For what heaven should bend above Hearts that own the heaven of love?

Carol, Carol, we have come Back to heaven, back to home.

FOREST OF WILD THYME

To HELEN, ROSIE and BEATRIX

APOLOGIA

Critics, you have been so kind, I would not have you think me blind To all the wisdom that you preach; Yet before I strictlier run In straiter lines of chiselled speech, Give me one more hour, just one Hour to hunt the fairy gleam That flutters through this childish dream.

It mocks me as it flies, I know: All too soon the gleam will go; Yet I love it and shall love My dream that brooks no narrower bars Than bind the darkening heavens above, My Jack o’Lanthorn of the stars: Then, I’ll follow it no more, I’ll light the lamp: I’ll close the door.

PRELUDE

Hush! if you remember how we sailed to old Japan, Peterkin was with us then, our little brother Peterkin! Now we’ve lost him, so they say: I think the tall thin man Must have come and touched him with his curious twinkling fan And taken him away again, our merry little Peterkin; He’ll be frightened all alone; we’ll find him if we can; Come and look for Peterkin, poor little Peterkin.

No one would believe us if we told them what we know, Or they wouldn’t grieve for Peterkin, merry little Peterkin; If they’d only watched us roaming through the streets of Miyako, And travelling in a palanquin where parents never go, And seen the golden gardens where we wandered once with Peterkin, And smelt the purple orchards where the cherry-blossoms blow, They wouldn’t mourn for Peterkin, merry little Peterkin.

Put away your muskets, lay aside the drum, Hang it by the wooden sword we made for little Peterkin!

He was once our trumpeter, now his bugle’s dumb, Pile your arms beneath it, for the owlet light is come, We’ll wander through the roses where we marched of old with Peterkin, We’ll search the summer sunset where the Hybla beehives hum, And--if we meet a fairy there--we’ll ask for news of Peterkin.

He was once our cabin-boy and cooked the sweets for tea; And O, we’ve sailed around the world with laughing little Peterkin; From nursery floor to pantry door we’ve roamed the mighty sea, And come to port below the stairs in distant Caribee, But wheresoe’er we sailed we took our little lubber Peterkin, Because his wide grey eyes believed much more than ours could see, And so we liked our Peterkin, our trusty little Peterkin.

Peterkin, Peterkin, I think if you came back The captain of our host to-day should be the bugler Peterkin, And he should lead our smugglers up that steep and narrow track, A band of noble brigands, bearing each a mighty pack Crammed with lace and jewels to the secret cave of Peterkin, And he should wear the biggest boots and make his pistol crack,-- The Spanish cloak, the velvet mask, we’d give them all to Peterkin. Come, my brother pirates, I am tired of play; Come and look for Peterkin, little brother Peterkin, Our merry little comrade that the fairies took away, For people think we’ve lost him, and when we come to say Our good-night prayers to mother, if we pray for little Peterkin Her eyes are very sorrowful, she turns her head away. Come and look for Peterkin, merry little Peterkin.

God bless little Peterkin, wherever he may be! Come and look for Peterkin, lonely little Peterkin: I wonder if they’ve taken him again across the sea From the town of Wonder-Wander and the Amfalula tree To the land of many marvels where we roamed of old with Peterkin, The land of blue pagodas and the flowery fields of tea! Come and look for Peterkin, poor little Peterkin.