THE STOLEN CHILD. W. B. YEATS

THE STOLEN CHILD
W. B. YEATS


Where dips the rocky highland
  Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
  Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats.
There we've hid our fairy vats
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O, human child!
To the woods and waters wild
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
           you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
  The dim grey sands with lig...