A Return from the Air

Set the clocks going,

Turn on the light.

Is that the old sea flowing

Out there, in the night?

We have come back from faërie,

To the world where Time still plods.

We have returned from an airy

Ramble with the gods.

There are few changes showing.

The fire shines bright.

But—set the clocks going.

Turn on the light.

No, we have nothing to tell you

That you would care to be told.

No, we have nothing to sell you

That ever was bought with gold.

Ah, never look at our faces

Till we forget our skies,

Or the gleam of the holy places

Has faded from our eyes.

But—set the clocks going.

Turn on the light,

Outside the winds are blowing.

Shut the doors tight.

Is it an age or a minute

That we have been away?

We have lived an æon in it,

That is all we dare to say.

Our knowledge was past all knowing.

Our seeing was past all sight.

But—set the clocks going.

Turn on the light.