[Opendesigns-public] f he was by ca

[Gysin Gregerson]

Tained face. They come with packs of dreams, with love and laughter,
They come with songs rolled snugly up in sacks; They come with promises
for ever after, Tied neatly into bundles on their backs! They bring the
seeds of magic so that flowers, The flowers of new happiness and mirth,
May bloom, once more, in sweet enchanted bowers, Above the heart-ache of
a tortured earth. Now that the angry powder smoke has vanished, The
fairy folk are coming as of yore, The fairy folk that hate and war had
banished... They pause beside a loosely swinging door, To set it right
on hinges that were breaking, They lift an old rag doll with tender
care, And hurry on--because their hearts are aching, For one-time
childish faces that were there. They cross forgotten meadows in the
gloaming, Through forest aisles at even-time they creep; Where trenches
were, their little feet are roaming, And where the heroes of the
conflict sleep, They stop, a moment, wistful--and their singing Dies
down into the semblance of a prayer; And tiny bells in far-off elf land
ringing, Sound, like a silver promise, on the air. NOW THAT THE TUMULT
OF THE WAR IS OVER, ONCE MORE THE COUNTRY WAKENS TO ROMANCE; FOR,
THROUGH THE TANGLE OF THE GRASS AND CLOVER, THE FAIRY FOLK ARE COMING
BACK TO FRANCE. THE PHOENIX The ruined wheat fields lying in the s
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