The Poetry Corner

The Dwellers Therein

By George MacDonald

Down a warm alley, early in the year, Among the woods, with all the sunshine in And all the winds outside it, I begin To think that something gracious will appear, If anything of grace inhabit here, Or there be friendship in the woods to win. Might one but find companions more akin To trees and grass and happy daylight clear, And in this wood spend one long hour at home! The fairies do not love so bright a place, And angels to the forest never come, But I have dreamed of some harmonious race, The kindred of the shapes that haunt the shore Of Music's flow and flow for evermore.