Ah, what wonders round us rose When we dared to pause and look, Curious things that seemed all toes, Goblins from a picture-book; Ants like witches, four feet high, Waving all their skinny arms, Glared at us and wandered by, Muttering their ancestral charms. Stately forms in green and gold Armour strutted through the glades, Just as Hamlet’s ghost, we’re told, Mooned among the midnight shades; Once a sort of devil came Scattering broken trees about, Winged with leather, eyed with flame,— He was but a moth, no doubt. Here and there, above us clomb Feathery clumps of palm on high: Those were ferns, of course, but some Really seemed to touch the sky; Yes; and down one fragrant glade, Listening as we onward stole, Half delighted, half afraid, Dong, we heard the hare-bells toll! Something told us what that gleam Down the glen was brooding o’er; Something told us in a dream What the bells were tolling for! Something told us there was fear, Horror, peril, on our way! Was it far or was it near? Near, we heard the night-wind say. Toll, the music reeled and pealed Through the vast and sombre trees, Where a rosy light revealed Dimmer, sweeter mysteries; And, like petals of the rose, Fairy fans in beauty beat, Light in light—ah, what were those Rhymes we heard the night repeat? Toll, a dream within a dream, Up an aisle of rose and blue, Up the music’s perfumed stream Came the words, and then we knew, Knew that in that distant glen Once again the case was tried, Hark!—Who killed Cock Robin, then? And a tiny voice replied, “I killed Cock Robin!” “I! And who are You, sir, pray?” Growled a voice that froze our marrow: “Who!” we heard the murderer say, “Lord, sir, I’m the famous Sparrow, And this ’ere’s my bow and arrow! “I killed Cock Robin!” Then, with one great indrawn breath, Such a sighin’ and a sobbin’ Rose all round us for the death Of poor, poor Cock Robin, Oh, we couldn’t bear to wait Even to hear the murderer’s fate, Which we’d often wished to know Sitting in the fireside glow And with hot revengeful looks Searched for in the nursery-books; For the Robin and the Wren Are such friends to mortal men, Such dear friends to mortal men! Toll; and through the woods once more Stole we, drenched with fragrant dew: Toll; the hare-bell’s burden bore Deeper meanings than we knew: Still it told us there was fear, Horror, peril on our way! Was it far or was it near? Near, we heard the night-wind say! Near; and once or twice we saw Something like a monstrous eye, Something like a hideous claw Steal between us and the sky: Still we hummed a dauntless tune Trying to think such things might be Glimpses of the fairy moon Hiding in some hairy tree. Yet around us as we went Through the glades of rose and blue Sweetness with the horror blent Wonder-wild in scent and hue: Here Aladdin’s cavern yawned, Jewelled thick with gorgeous dyes; There a head of clover dawned Like a cloud in eastern skies. Hills of topaz, lakes of dew, Fairy cliffs of crystal sheen Passed we; and the forest’s blue Sea of branches tossed between: Once we saw a gryphon make One soft iris as it passed Like the curving meteor’s wake O’er the forest, far and fast. Winged with purple, breathing flame, Crimson-eyed we saw him go, Where—ah! could it be the same Cockchafer we used to know?— Valley-lilies overhead, High aloof in clustered spray, Far through heaven their splendour spread, Glimmering like the Milky Way. Mammoths father calls “extinct,” Creatures that the cave-men feared, Through that forest walked and blinked, Through that jungle crawled and leered; Beasts no Nimrod ever knew, Woolly bears of black and red; Crocodiles, we wondered who Ever dared to see them fed. Were they lizards? If they were, They could swallow us with ease; But they slumbered quietly there In among the mighty trees; Red and silver, blue and green, Played the moonlight on their scales; Golden eyes they had, and lean Crookéd legs with cruel nails. Yet again, oh, faint and far, Came the shadow of a cry, Like the calling of a star To its brother in the sky; Like an echo in a cave Where young mermen sound their shells, Like the wind across a grave Bright with scent of lily-bells. Like a fairy hunter’s horn Sounding in some purple glen Sweet revelly to the morn And the fairy quest again: Then, all round it surged a song We could never understand Though it lingered with us long, And it seemed so sad and grand.