Page:The witch-maid & other verses (1914).djvu/32

 Wreathed with starry clematis these tread the grassy spaces When the moon sails up beyond the highest screening tree, All the forest dances, and the furthest hidden places Are astir with beauty—but we may not often see.

When came they to harbour here, the shy folk peering, flying? Long before our coast showed blue to Poncé de León Pan beheld a vision of an empty kingdom lying Waiting—and he led them past the seas to claim his own.