And where have all the spirits gone

that lived beneath the fallen leaves

and scampered quick among the rocks

and bedded down within the trees?


Who blew upon the morning buds

to make them open up their eyes

and painted all the colors on

the lacy wings of dragonflies?


We once knew more about their kind

and apt we were to see their hand

among the wonders all around

in sea, and sky, and stone, and sand


But we forgot that life is more

than facts and numbers, black and white

And so we lost our secret kin

and they, bereft, have taken flight


To somewhere else where fancy dwells

And men have eyes to see and know

with wisdom far beyond our own

That magic helps the plants to grow