LISTEN!
Quiet your faces; be crossed every thumb;
Fix on me deep your eyes . . .
Out of my mind a story shall come,
Old, and lovely, and wise.
Old as the pebbles that fringe the cold seas;
Lovely as apples in rain;
Wise as the King who learned of the bees,
Then learned of the emmets again.
Old as the fruits that in mistletoe shine;
Lovely as amber, as snow;
Wise as the fool who, when care made him pine,
Sang Hey, fol lol, lilly lo!
Old as the woods rhyming Thomas snuffed sweet.
When pillion he rid with the Queen;
Lovely as elf-craft; wise as the street,
Where the roofs of the humble are seen . . .
Hsst! there's a stirring, there's wind in the bough;
A whirring of birds on the wing:
Like a river of water my story shall flow,
Like runnels of water sing.
