The fairy coursers.
Whirled in blissful myriads, dart the dragon-flies;
Mingled in their mazes with bird and bee and blossom
They sink with the rainclouds or on the breezes rise.
Little blue phantom around my dory flitting
Or poised in peaceful silence on the loom of my oar,
Heaven has marked out for thee a labor that is fitting
Though eyes dim and human may miss thy secret lore!
Fairies that have fled from the grasp of earthly forces,
Shielded from the view of us mortals dimly-eyed,
These are their chariots, these their winged horses,
Safe on these coursers the vanished fairies ride.