Poem by Rupert Atkinson

William Blake

LITTLE songs like fairies winging
Down the happy star-ways, falling,
When you heard his fancy singing
Many a joy of gold and blue,
Glancing, gleaming, dancing, dreaming,
Did you hear him laughing, calling.
Calling you?

Little songs he spied and caught you

Though you dallied, weeping, praying;
Through bright woodlands wild he brought you

Under skies of white and blue;
Glancing, gleaming, dancing, dreaming.
Where you played he lingered playing,
Playing too.

Little songs he left you, dying;

Songs that could not find him, hollow
With sick pining, lured him, sighing;

And his dreams of gold and blue,
Glancing, gleaming, dancing, dreaming.
These are lost until we follow,
Follow too.

1. Melbourne Sonnets. 8. The Stock Exchange
2. Melbourne Sonnets. 4. On the Kerb
3. Promethean
4. Melbourne Sonnets. 13. On the Block
5. Evensong

Dante Rossetti William Blake ("THIS is the place. Even here the dauntless soul")

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