I love the poetry of Fiona McLeod, who was in fact a man named William Sharp. Those who follow the ways of Faerie know her well, for she wrote passionately of her dreams and encounters with the Fae. I chose today’s selection for its lighthearted simplicity, so perfect for a Springtime Sunday. I hope you will enjoy it!
The Field Mouse
From Earth’s Voices (1884)
by Fiona McLeod (William Sharp)
When the moon shines o’er the corn
And the beetle drones his horn,
And the flittermice swift fly,
And the nightjars swooping cry,
And the young hares run and leap,
We waken from our sleep.
And we climb with tiny feet
And we munch the green corn sweet
With startled eyes for fear
The white owl should fly near,
Or long slim weasel spring
Upon us where we swing.
We do no hurt at all:
Is there not room for all
Within the happy world?
All day we lie close curled
In drowsy sleep, nor rise
Till through the dusky skies
The moon shines o’er the corn,
And the beetle drones his horn.