The Shadow People

Old lame Bridget doesn't

Fairy music in the

When the gloaming's on the

And the shadow people pass:

Never hears their slow grey

Coming from the village

Just beyond the parson's wall,

Where the clover globes are

And the mushroom's

Opens in the moonlit rain.

Every night I hear them

From their long and merry train.

Old lame Bridget says to me,"It is just your fancy, child."She cannot believe I

Laughing faces in the wild,

Hands that twinkle in the

Bowing at the water's

Where the finny minnows quiver,

Shaping on a blue wave's

Bubble foam to sail the river.

And the sunny hands to

Beckon ever, beckon ever.

Oh!

I would be wild and free,

And with the shadow people be.