Volume I Part 20 (1/2)

How high the forest aisles would loom, What wondrous wings would beat Through gloamings loaded with perfume In many a rich retreat, While trees like purple censers bowed And swung beneath a swooning cloud Mysteriously sweet, Where flowers that haunt no mortal clime Burden the Forest of Wild Thyme.

We'd watched the bats and beetles flit Through sunset-coloured air The night that we discovered it And all the heavens were bare: We'd seen the colours melt and pa.s.s Like silent ghosts across the gra.s.s To sleep--our hearts knew where; And so we rose, and hand in hand We sought the gates of fairy-land.

For Peterkin, oh Peterkin, The cry was in our ears, A fairy clamour, clear and thin From lands beyond the years; A wistful note, a dying fall As of the fairy bugle-call Some dreamful changeling hears, And pines within his mortal home Once more through fairy-land to roam.

We left behind the pleasant row Of cottage window-panes, The village inn's red-curtained glow, The lovers in the lanes; And stout of heart and strong of will We climbed the purple perfumed hill, And hummed the sweet refrains Of fairy tunes the tall thin man Taught us of old in Old j.a.pan.

So by the tall wide-barred church-gate Through which we all could pa.s.s We came to where that curious plate, That foolish plate of bra.s.s, Said Peterkin was fast asleep Beneath a cold and ugly heap Of earth and stones and gra.s.s.

It was a splendid place for play, That churchyard, on a summer's day;

A splendid place for hide-and-seek Between the grey old stones; Where even grown-ups used to speak In awestruck whispering tones; And here and there the gra.s.s ran wild In jungles for the creeping child, And there were elfin zones Of twisted flowers and words in rhyme And great sweet cus.h.i.+ons of wild thyme.

So in a wild thyme snuggery there We stayed awhile to rest; A bell was calling folk to prayer: One star was in the West: The cottage lights grew far away, The whole sky seemed to waver and sway Above our fragrant nest; And from a distant dreamland moon Once more we heard that fairy tune:

Why, mother once had sung it us When, ere we went to bed, She told the tale of Pyramus, How Thisbe found him dead And mourned his eyes as green as leeks, His cherry nose, his cowslip cheeks.

That tune would oft around us float Since on a golden noon We saw the play that Shakespeare wrote Of Lion, Wall, and Moon; Ah, hark--the ancient fairy theme-- _Following darkness like a dream!_

The very song Will Shakespeare sang, The music that through Sherwood rang And Arden and that forest glade Where Hermie and Lysander strayed, And Puck cried out with impish glee, _Lord, what fools these mortals be!_ Though the masquerade was mute Of Quince and Snout and Snug and Flute, And Bottom with his donkey's head Decked with roses, white and red, Though the fairies had forsaken Sherwood now and faintly shaken The forest-scents from off their feet, Yet from some divine retreat Came the music, sweet and clear, To hang upon the raptured ear With the free unfettered sway Of blossoms in the moon of May.

Hark! the luscious fluttering Of flower-soft words that kiss and cling, And part again with sweet farewells, And rhyme and chime like fairy-bells.

”_I know a bank where the wild thyme blows Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine._”

Out of the undiscovered land So sweetly rang the song, We dreamed we wandered, hand in hand, The fragrant aisles along, Where long ago had gone to dwell In some enchanted distant dell The outlawed fairy throng When out of Sherwood's wildest glen They sank, forsaking mortal men.

And as we dreamed, the shadowy ground Seemed gradually to swell; And a strange forest rose around, But how--we could not tell-- Purple against a rose-red sky The big boughs brooded silently: Far off we heard a bell; And, suddenly, a great red light Smouldered before our startled sight.

Then came a cry, a fiercer flash, And down between the trees We saw great crimson figures crash, Wild-eyed monstrosities; Great dragon-shapes that breathed a flame From roaring nostrils as they came: We sank upon our knees; And looming o'er us, ten yards high, Like battle-s.h.i.+ps they thundered by.

And then, as down that mighty dell We followed, faint with fear, We understood the tolling bell That called the monsters there; For right in front we saw a house Woven of wild mysterious boughs Bursting out everywhere In crimson flames, and with a shout The monsters rushed to put it out.

And, in a flash, the truth was ours; And there we knew--we knew-- The meaning of those trees like flowers, Those boughs of rose and blue, And from the world we'd left above A voice came crooning like a dove To prove the dream was true: And this--we knew it by the rhyme Must be--the Forest of Wild Thyme.

For out of the mystical rose-red dome Of heaven the voice came murmuring down: _Oh, Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home; Your house is on fire and your children are gone._

We knew, we knew it by the rhyme, Though _we_ seemed, after all, No tinier, yet the sweet wild thyme Towered like a forest tall All round us; oh, we knew not how.

And yet--we knew those monsters now: Our dream's divine recall Had dwarfed us, as with magic words; The dragons were but ladybirds!

And all around us as we gazed, Half glad, half frightened, all amazed, The scented clouds of purple smoke In lurid gleams of crimson broke; And o'er our heads the huge black trees Obscured the sky's red mysteries; While here and there gigantic wings Beat o'er us, and great scaly things Fold over monstrous leathern fold Out of the smouldering copses rolled; And eyes like blood-red pits of flame From many a forest-cavern came To glare across the blazing glade, Till, with the sudden thought dismayed, We wondered if we e'er should find The mortal home we left behind: Fear clutched us in a grisly grasp, We gave one wild and white-lipped gasp, Then turned and ran, with streaming hair, Away, away, and anywhere!

And hurry-skurry, heart and heel and hand, we tore along, And still our flying feet kept time and pattered on for Peterkin, For Peterkin, oh Peterkin, it made a kind of song To prove the road was right although it seemed so dark and wrong, As through the desperate woods we plunged and ploughed for little Peterkin, Where many a hidden jungle-beast made noises like a gong That rolled and roared and rumbled as we rushed along to Peterkin.

Peterkin, Peterkin, if you could only hear And answer us, one little word from little lonely Peterkin To take and comfort father, he is sitting in his chair In the library: he's listening for your footstep on the stair And your patter down the pa.s.sage, he can only think of Peterkin: Come back, come back to father, for to-day he'd let us tear His newest book to make a paper-boat for little Peterkin.

PART III

THE HIDEOUS HERMIT

Ah, what wonders round us rose When we dared to pause and look, Curious things that seemed all toes, Goblins from a picture-book; Ants like witches, four feet high, Waving all their skinny arms, Glared at us and wandered by, Muttering their ancestral charms.

Stately forms in green and gold Armour strutted through the glades, Just as Hamlet's ghost, we're told, Mooned among the midnight shades: