Treasure Island

George William Russell

(10 April 1867 – 17 July 1935 / Lurgan, County Armagh, Ireland)

A Call of the Sidhe


TARRY thou yet, late lingerer in the twilight’s glory:
Gay are the hills with song: earth’s faery children leave
More dim abodes to roam the primrose-hearted eve,
Opening their glimmering lips to breathe some wondrous story.
Hush, not a whisper! Let your heart alone go dreaming.
Dream unto dream may pass: deep in the heart alone
Murmurs the Mighty One his solemn undertone.
Canst thou not see adown the silver cloudland streaming
Rivers of faery light, dewdropp on dewdropp falling,
Star-fire of silver flames, lighting the dark beneath?
And what enraptured hosts burn on the dusky heath!
Come thou away with them for Heaven to Earth is calling.
These are Earth’s voice—her answer—spirits thronging.
Come to the Land of Youth: the trees grown heavy there
dropp on the purple wave the starry fruit they bear.
Drink: the immortal waters quench the spirit’s longing.
Art thou not now, bright one, all sorrow past, in elation,
Made young with joy, grown brother-hearted with the vast,
Whither thy spirit wending flits the dim stars past
Unto the Light of Lights in burning adoration.

Submitted: Friday, May 04, 2012
Edited: Friday, May 04, 2012

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