Faery Child

I found the body of a dead child
When I went hunting in the forest one morn.
He was lying, crumpled, still, so mild,
Looking as tiny as if newborn.

But when I crouched down beside
The tiny body, my eyes filled with tears,
I froze- because the babe was golden-eyed,
Golden-eyed, with pointed ears.

I gathered his body in my arms still,
But with a reluctance I had not felt before.
I glanced about for signs of a hollow hill,
For some sign of an otherworld door.

For all I know, just taking the babe
Was disturbing some Faeryland funeral rite.
But no one came forth to sing, or bathe
His body in water in the end of night.

In the end, I carried the body back home,
And washed him with water clear,
And murmured prayers that his soul, to roam,
Would choose some place far from here.

And then, not knowing why- save it felt right-
I went and gathered sweet spring flowers,
And carried back, and bound them by noon-light
About his brows, and strew them in showers

Around the tiny, unmoving, golden-eyed form.
I murmured more prayers, this time without a name,
And watched as the night rose up in a storm,
And then carried him forth by the light of a flame,

And began walking, walking, slow but unstopped,
Until I stumbled as my foot caught something,
And had to flail; the child's body almost dropped.
Lightning showed me I stood in a faery ring.

Taking a deep breath, I knelt on the grass,
And whispered all the old names to the night
That I knew, or had ever seen in the glass
Of the stream, when I looked there by moonlight.

I was placing the child down for the last time
When I heard sweet laughter, a jingle.
I looked up, and found myself in a calm clime.
Behind me something rang, and a tingle

Ran down my spine as I turned to face
Whatever was waiting there for me to face it.
There stood a lady gowned in white and grace.
She reached for the child, came to embrace it.

I stared into her face, golden-eyed, elven-eared,
And knew, though I could not say I knew why,
That the child was truly dead, as I feared;
She could not revive him. A tear fell from my eye,

And landed on the child's face. Then it stirred,
And the golden eyes opened to look up at me.
It stared into my eyes, and laughed like a bird.
I received a kiss on my cheek from the lady,

And a brush of her hand across my hair
Before the clime and the place to the rain was lost.
I rose, and walked back breathing clean air.
A shock of my hair as silver as frost

Turned with the lady's touch, and to this day
Remains, if any need proof of my story.
But I do not often think that another could away
Steal, with doubting words, my frail glory.

I still do not know just what I did, or why-
If my tear brought the child back to life,
Or the funeral rites, or the dark rainy sky.
But I do know that from that day the strife

Of the elements has never troubled me,
That my heart is always a pool as calm as sunrise,
That strange lights and shades can I see,
And a shadow of gold remains in my eyes.

I found the body of a dead faery child
When I went hunting in the forest one morn.
What happened next was so fair and so wild
That I feel, in a strange way, myself newborn.