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Title: The Changeling
Author: Olive Custance [
More Titles by Custance]
My father was a golden king,
My mother was a shining queen;
I heard the magic blue-bird sing . . .
They wrapped me in a mantle green.
They led their winged white horses out,
We rode and rode till dawn was grey;
We rode with many a song and shout,
"Over the hills and far away."
They stole the crying human child,
And left me laughing by the fire;
And that is why my heart is wild,
And all my life a long desire . . .
The old enchantments hold me still . . .
And sometimes in a waking trance
I seek again the Fairy Hill,
The midnight feast, the glittering dance!
The wizard harpers play for me,
I wear a crown upon my head,
A princess in eternity,
I dance and revel with the dead . . .
"Vain lies!" I hear the people cry,
I listen to their weary truth;
Then turn again to fantasy,
And the untroubled Land of Youth.
I hear the laughter of the kings,
I see their jewelled flagons gleam . . .
O wine of Life! . . . immortal things
Move in the splendour of my dream . . .
My spirit is a homing dove . . .
I drain a crystal cup, and fall
Softly into the arms of Love . . .
And then the darkness covers all.
[The end]
Olive Custance's poem: Changeling
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