The Goblin Laugh

WHEN I behold how men and women grind

And grovel for some place of pomp or power,

To shine and circle through a crumbling hour,

Forgetting the large mansions of the mind,

That are the rest and shelter of mankind;

And when I see them come with wearied brains

Pallid and powerless to enjoy their gains,

I seem to hear a goblin laugh unwind.

And then a memory sends upon its billow

Thoughts of a singer wise enough to play,

Who took life as a lightsome holiday:

Oft have I seen him make his arm a pillow,

Drink from his hand, and with a pipe of willow

Blow a wild music down a woodland way.