Somewhere afield here something lies
In Earth's oblivious eyeless trust
That moved, that moved a poet to prophecies
A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust
The dust of the lark that Shelley heard
And made immortal through times to be
Though it only lived like another bird
And knew not its immortality
Lived its meek life; then, one day, fell
A little ball of feather and bone
And how it perished, when piped farewell
And where it wastes, are alike unknown
Maybe it rests in the loam I view
Maybe it throbs in a myrtle's green
Maybe it sleeps in the coming hue
Of a grape on the slopes of yon inland scene
Go find it, faeries, go and find
That tiny pinch of priceless dust
And bring a casket silver-lined
And framed of gold that gems encrust
And we will lay it safe therein
And consecrate it to endless time
For it inspired a bard to win
Ecstatic heights in thought and rhyme
And we will lay it safe therein
And consecrate it to endless time
For it inspired a bard to win
Ecstatic heights in thought and rhyme