‘Little Goblin at the fire, Have you found the Heart’s Desire? Have you seen it in your flitting by night or by noon?’ ‘O it may be in the swell Of the mist-wreath up the fell, Or the long clouds trailing at the tail o’ the moon.’
‘Little Goblin in the cold, Have you seen it on the wold, Where the winds with flying voices run free as they rave?’ ‘O it may be in the sigh Of a time that is gone by Or the long grass growing by the brink o’ the grave.’
‘Little Goblin in the trees, Looking down the darkening leas, Have you seen no golden country where the heart finds rest?’ ‘O, it may be where the night Comes to quench the flaming light, In the far lands lying through the fire o’ the west.’
❦