Old Dominion

Skies of gray and seas of green-

Emeralds on a silver chain-

Mixed as in a tempest-dream

Marble clouds that threaten rain

Swathe the railways, twists and turns

Silver wrapping round the train

I have one thought and it burns,

Like a fevered forehead does

Yet soft-stirs my mind, like ferns

Rustled in the woods because

Low slow humid airs float by -

One sole dew-drop thought now: Twas

That you were mine, and not, and I

Could walk your seas forever, tread

Your jade cool carpet silent, shy.

Lore-led, then, and wonder-fed

Infinite her mossy floor

I would seek the end and, led

By memories and honest lore

I’d find the path the fairies tread

If fairies lived here anymore.