Nic Treadwell's Posts

A call of the sidhe by George William Russell 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, dewdrop on dewdrop 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 Drop 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, grow