Still they stand upon the hillside, and the low sun glances On the little elfin faces all begloomed to ashen grey;Oh, never hand is lifted nor a light foot dancesFor the fiddle-bow is broken and the fiddler far away- Lost and gone and half forgotten down a long dead yesterday.
Once they tarried on the hillside when the world lay sleeping,Oh, the tide was at the turning, and a low moon at the wane !
And a sudden mist came o"er them and a low, soft weeping,And the Grey Woman touched them, and they never laughed againOr danced beneath the moonlight on the hills of Vandiemaine,So they crouch like little children till the blind fear passes That stole their merry music and stilled their dancing feet,And left them there for ever with the thin wild grassesThat whisper them at midnights and moan in noons of heatOf the old things, the kind things, that were so dear and sweet.
Far, far the hills of Faery, and the slow tides turningAnd the great white moons of men are as hollow winds that blew-Oh, the little wistful faces and the wee hearts burningTo pluck the magic moon-grapes and gather honey-dew That only white immortals and the fairies ever knew !
Will they waken once, I wonder, to a wild horn blowing When a little lost wind whimpers and the Cross is leaninglow?
Will they see the lamps of Faery down her green glades glowing?
Will they hear the taut strings throbbing to a newly resined bow,And go dancing, dancing, dancing, spilling laughter as they go?
Marie E. J. Pitt
Author.-Mrs. Marie E. J. Pitt is a living Victorian poetess, born in Gippsland. Authoress of Horses of the Hills and a volume of collected poems, all of them musical and fanciful.
General-What does the poetess feign that the orchids were once? Why were they changed? Who is the Grey Woman? Will they ever return to Fairyland? Do you like the blending of Van Diemen"s Land and Tasmania in the name " Vandemaine "? Does the dance of the measure suggest the dance of the orchids? Why the name "Spider "? What are moon-grapes, honey-dew? Let the Grey Woman tell the story. Let one of the orchids speak.
