Passage into Faery - The gift and the curse of the star from 'Smith of Wooton Major'

A story may, if it 'twere told
Become the silver sheen and gold
The hue of faery star,
Lands of hope seen, ne'er marr
The balance of the woken world,
Untill, reality, time unfurl'd
Cast upon that ancient gate,
Awoke the chained, uncertain fate
Of happenings, of sowrds and war,
Of moon, of sun, and flowered floor
Upon which the maidens fair do dance,
And ye, in awe, just stand in trance,
And feel the truth in sight and sound,
The sun is risen, day is found,
And falls the eve of haunting song,
Beware ye, mortal, linger long
And thy heart in mortal lands shall not rest,
Yet tempts ye this land, for here ye rest,
And place thy head on sweet-scent tears,
As so swiftly run the months and years,
In countless time, and echo'd still,
In unfound love;
'Tis cruel thy fate, yet stars above
Both worlds still shine,
Doth thou harken, to this time,
Or search for thoes gates lost so long ago,
What have ye found, what doth ye know?

Yet Faery Queen bids ye release,
Should that be torment; pain or peace,
A land where ye wandered, ne'er lost,
O'er all, thy star hath cost
Ye nothing, yet gave thee dear,
In mortal lands should dwell, no fear
To seek thy soul at night,
Ere the lark and morn shall fight
Thy dreams shall be, as ever were,
Filled with longing, and with Her.

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