If trees were tall and grasses short,
As in some crazy tale,
If here and there a sea were blue
Beyond the breaking pale,
If a fixed fire hung in the air
To warm me one day through,
If deep green hair grew on great hills,
I know what I should do.
In dark I lie; dreaming that there
Are great eyes cold or kind,
And twisted streets and silent doors,
And living men behind.
Let storm clouds come: better an hour,
And leave to weep and fight,
Than all the ages I have ruled
The empires of the night.
I think that if they gave me leave
Within the world to stand,
I would be good through all the day
I spent in fairyland.
They should not hear a word from me
Of selfishness or scorn,
If only I could find the door,
If only I were born.
S. D. Smith is the award-losing author of The Green Ember Series. Sam loves chocolate chip cookies, soccer, and knights who kill dragons.
Latest posts by S. D. Smith (see all)
- It Is What It Is, But It Is Not What It Shall Be - March 30, 2020
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- Think Small and Carry On - January 13, 2020
Love the image of hairy green hills and a fixed fire.
I’ve often wondered about the thoughts of babes before birth, and confess to asking a new one what secrets he knew about heaven, but alas, he just looked at me without saying a word. 😉