Bother Bulleys, Let Us Sing From The Dawn Till Evening! - For We Know Not That We Go Not When The Day'S Pale Pinions Fold Unto Those Who Sang Of Old. When I Flew To Blackmoor Vale, Whence The Green-Gowned Faeries Hail, Roosting Near Them I Could Hear Them Speak Of Queenly Nature'S Ways, Means, And Moods, - Well Known To Fays. All We Creatures, Nigh And Far (Said They There), The Mother'S Are: Yet She Never Shows Endeavour To Protect From Warrings Wild Bird Or Beast She Calls Her Child. Busy In Her Handsome House Known As Space, She Falls A-Drowse; Yet, In Seeming, Works On Dreaming, While Beneath Her Groping Hands Fiends Make Havoc In Her Bands. How Her Hussif'Ry Succeeds She Unknows Or She Unheeds, All Things Making For Death'S Taking! - So The Green-Gowned Faeries Say Living Over Blackmoor Way. Come Then, Brethren, Let Us Sing, From The Dawn Till Evening! - For We Know Not That We Go Not When The Day'S Pale Pinions Fold Unto Those Who Sang Of Old.