POETRY,
FOUR CHILDREN
As I lay quietly in the grass, Half dreaming, half awake, I saw four children barefoot pass Across the tufted brake : The sky was glass, the pools were glass, And not a leaf did shake.
The autumn berries clustered thick, Seldom I met with more ; I thought these children come to pick, As many picked before ; Each had a long and crooked stick, And crowns of ash they wore. - But not one berry did they take ; Gliding, I watched them go Hand in hand across the brake With sallies to and fro. . So half asleep and half awake I guessed what now I know.
They were not children, live and rough, Nor phantoms of the dead, But spirits woven of airy stuff By wandering fancy led, Creatures of silence, fair enough No sooner seen than sped. ROBERT GRAVES.
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