There Is Magic Poem by John Yaws

There is magic in the forest-
In the sparkle of the dew
And in the eyes of maidens-
So innocent and blue.
There is magic when the setting sun
Does spread a tapestry-
With just as little effort
As we spread a cloth for tea..
There is magic when the rainbow
In it's prismatic splendor
Paints a sky in pastel hues-
Monet could never render.
And science in it's bigotry-
Endeavors to explain-
In minute, boring detail-
Each and every thing.
They set it down in weighty tomes-
Which no one ever reads-
Nor comprehends it if he does-
Ah! What noteworthy deeds.
They tell me I am foolish-
A dreamer! Quite insane-
Explain it how you wish to-
There's magic just the same.
There's magic in the winter wind-
Which play a banshee's pipes-
And fan the flames of Scottish lore
Those long, cold Highland nights.
Foolish? Do you call it?
This idle evening's banter-
Ah, fool! I doubt ye even ken-
The tale o' "Tam O' Shanter"
Nor poor Tam's ride a winter's eve
Out in the woeful dark-
Nor ‘Alloway's old haunted kirk-
Nor lovely Cutty Sark?
An' faith! the tales o' little folk-
Their mischief and their pranks
The awful end which come to those
Who dare invade their ranks...
A foolish lot you tell me, eh?
And laugh this fool to shame-
He who laughs last, laughs loudest-
There's magic just the same!