The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies

Dedication. To Robert Louis Stevenson

O Louis! you that like them maist,
Ye’re far frae kelpie, wraith, and ghaist,
And fairy dames, no unco chaste,
      And haunted cell.
Among a heathen clan ye’re placed,
      That kens na hell!

Ye hae nae heather, peat, nor birks,
Nae troot in a’ your burnies lurks,
There are nae bonny U.P. kirks,
      An awfu’ place!
Nane kens the Covenant o’ Works
      Frae that of Grace!

But whiles, maybe, to them ye’ll read
Blads o’ the Covenanting creed,
And whiles their pagan wames ye’ll feed
      On halesome parritch;
And syne ye’ll gar them learn a screed
      O’ the Shorter Carritch.

Yet thae uncovenanted shavers
Hae rowth, ye say, o’ clash and clavers
O’ gods and etins—auld wives’ havers,
      But their delight;
The voice o’ him that tells them quavers
      Just wi’ fair fright.

And ye might tell, ayont the faem,
Thae Hieland clashes o’ oor hame.
To speak the truth, I tak’ na shame
      To half believe them;
And, stamped wi’ Tusitala’s name,
      They’ll a’ receive them.

And folk to come, ayont the sea,
May hear the yowl of the Banshie,
And frae the water-kelpie flee,
      Ere a’ things cease,
And island bairns may stolen be
      By the Folk o’ Peace.

Faith, they might steal me, wi’ ma will,
And, ken’d I ony Fairy hill,
I’d lay me down there, snod and still,
      Their land to win,
For, man, I’ve maistly had my fill
      O’ this world’s din.