Don’t you wait where trees are,
  When the lightnings play,
Nor don’t you hate where Bees are,
  Or else they’ll pine away. 
    Pine away—­dwine away—­
      Anything to leave you! 
    But if you never grieve your Bees,
      Your Bees’ll never grieve you.

THE RETURN OF THE CHILDREN

Neither the harps nor the crowns amused, nor the cherubs’ dove-winged races—­
Holding hands forlornly the Children wandered beneath the Dome,
Plucking the splendid robes of the passers-by, and with pitiful faces
Begging what Princes and Powers refused:—­’Ah, please will you let us go home?’

Over the jewelled floor, nigh weeping, ran to them Mary the Mother,
Kneeled and caressed and made promise with kisses, and drew them along to the gateway—­
Yea, the all-iron unbribeable Door which Peter must guard and none other. 
Straightway She took the Keys from his keeping, and opened and freed them straightway.

Then, to Her Son, Who had seen and smiled, She said:  ’On the night that I bore Thee,
What didst Thou care for a love beyond mine or a heaven that was not my arm? 
Didst Thou push from the nipple, O Child, to hear the angels adore Thee? 
When we two lay in the breath of the kine?’ And He said:—­’Thou hast done no harm.’

So through the Void the Children ran homeward merrily hand in hand,
Looking neither to left nor right where the breathless Heavens stood still. 
And the Guards of the Void resheathed their swords, for they heard the Command: 
‘Shall I that have suffered the children to come to Me hold them against their will?’

MERROW DOWN

I

There runs a road by Merrow Down—­
  A grassy track to-day it is—­
An hour out of Guildford town,
  Above the river Wey it is.

Here, when they heard the horse-bells ring,
  The ancient Britons dressed and rode
To watch the dark Phoenicians bring
  Their goods along the Western Road.

Yes, here, or hereabouts, they met
  To hold their racial talks and such—­
To barter beads for Whitby jet,
  And tin for gay shell torques and such.

But long and long before that time
  (When bison used to roam on it)
Did Taffy and her Daddy climb
  That Down, and had their home on it.

Then beavers built in Broadstonebrook
  And made a swamp where Bramley stands;
And bears from Shere would come and look
  For Taffimai where Shamley stands.

The Wey, that Taffy called Wagai,
  Was more than six times bigger then;
And all the Tribe of Tegumai
  They cut a noble figure then!

II

Of all the Tribe of Tegumai
  Who cut that figure, none remain,—­
On Merrow Down the cuckoos cry—­
  The silence and the sun remain.