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| WHEN I was young, we dwelt in a vale | |
| By a misty fen that rang all night, | |
| And thus it was the maidens pale | |
| I knew so well, whose garments trail | |
| Across the reeds to a window light. | 5 |
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| The fen had every kind of bloom, | |
| And for every kind there was a face, | |
| And a voice that has sounded in my room | |
| Across the sill from the outer gloom. | |
| Each came singly unto her place, | 10 |
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| But all came every night with the mist; | |
| And often they brought so much to say | |
| Of things of moment to which, they wist, | |
| One so lonely was fain to list, | |
| That the stars were almost faded away | 15 |
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| Before the last went, heavy with dew, | |
| Back to the place from which she came— | |
| Where the bird was before it flew, | |
| Where the flower was before it grew, | |
| Where bird and flower were one and the same. | 20 |
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| And thus it is I know so well | |
| Why the flower has odor, the bird has song. | |
| You have only to ask me, and I can tell. | |
| No, not vainly there did I dwell, | |
| Nor vainly listen all the night long. | 25 |
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