Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/197

FERN-LAND For the magic mantles worn

Warily where mortals range,

And beside us

Now unseen, with glee deride us,

Laugh to scorn our trespass rash.

VI

Then the gnomes, that change to newts,

Lurk about the tree-fern's roots;

Their commander

Is the frog-mouthed salamander

Who will marshal in the sun

Red-backed lizards from the vines,

Eft and newt from bog and spring,—

Many a crested, horny thing

Sharp-eyed, fearsome,—and that one

With the loathly spotted lines!

Mortal heedeth

Him, whose breath of poison speedeth

Them that chafe the elfin king.

VII

Moths above, that feed on dew,

Flit their wings of gold and blue,— 177