The Fairy Wood by Henry Meynell Rheam The Fairy Wood by Henry Meynell Rheam.
The Rainbow by Georges Seurat The Rainbow by Georges Seurat.

Rainbow's End

Still, crouching by swarms of nettles,
Heat-haze prickling my scalp
Scarce daring to breathe,
Though anticipation furrowed my brow.

An angler turned, squinting
with a bemused smile
Whilst writhing life choked on his indifferent hook,
And, on the horizon, I saw so clearly
A vision, beckoning with benevolent eye
And open arms, strange half whispered charms
Now, was this the truth, at last.

Still, far away and yet, so near
Could be embraced and loved by all.
How many then had seen it so,
Radiant as sunlight, still, so clear
Pulsating heart, that with each beat
Breathed fresh life on those so done,
On tired eyes to crack them open
To melt the frost on everyone.

Beside that water I knew so, then,
Not I alone, and once again
With child-heart pounding
Scarce daring to breathe
I ran to our tryst as fleet as a deer
Racing, under the trees, canopied thick
Parodied with polluting brick
Which held our souls, a cynical wall
And made a dungeon of us all.

I sped so lithely along its banks
Heedless of the jagged thorns
Which clawed and tore my naked flesh
And blood, like poppies left hanging there.
My beating heart and bug-eyed stare.
Till one last summer took me to
That state of mind, wherein, alas
Childhood's cruel trick
Makes the innocent indecent and old
To laugh at pain and pots of gold
Essentially a part of being the child
Who dreams long days of adventures bold
Of elfin treasures, in grown up lies
Will mourn forever, for the child who dies.