RHYS AND DAVID - A POEM

Rhys and David hastened home,

For the night was well-nigh come,

And their tired and heavy tread

Woke the birds who'd gone to bed.

The tired moon leaned on the hill,

Tired, the soft wind had grown still,

Bats and beetles were about,

And the stars peeped shyly out,

When Rhys stopped and said, "Why, hark !

Who is singing like a lark ?

Listen ! for more joyful things

Never woke from fiddle-strings !

"It were madness to pass by

Such a sweet festivity.

Dance I must, and dance I will

Go you, David, up the hill !"

"Stay !" cried David, struck with fear,

"There's no music in my ear:

I hear nothing but the call

Of yon valley 's waterfall !"

Ah ! too late, poor Rhys was gone ;

David shouted, but went on.

When in bed, uneasy dreams

Crossed his sleep with evil gleams.

David saw Rhys all that night

Dancing by a shady light,

Dancing while he seemed to sing,

Dancing in a fairy ring !

Crowds of little folk were there

(Strange their faces, wild their hair)

Singing, dancing hand-in-hand,

As they do in fairyland !

David woke from sleep at last,

But his wild dreams held him fast ;

So he dressed and hastened out,

Hoping to see Rhys about.

Carefully he searched the hill,

Thinking Rhys might lie there still,

Sleeping under hedge or wall.

There was no sign of him at all !

But they found a ring of grass,

Green as mountain-ash it was,

And the marks of tiny heels

Showed where elves had trod their reels !

Though many a year has passed away,

None have seen Rhys since that day !

Does he dance and does he sing

For ever in a Fairy Ring ?