Classic Poem

To my dear Aunt of those dear days
Of Castle, Giant, Feast and Fight,
When every Forest rang with Fays,
And every Peasant proved a Knight —
How magical those tales you told
Of Talking Birds and Fairy Gold!

You spun those tales at close of day,
With low, soft voice and distant eyes;
For you went with me all the way,
Below the seas and through the skies;
And when the dangers grew too great
You'd bring me back to — half-past-eight!

A little thing it might have seemed —
A tousled nephew, careless, wild,
Agog to hear the dreams you dreamed
Into the heart of one small child;
And yet, dear Aunt, this child now knows
The debt he owes — the debt he owes!

For still he sees the Magic Wood,
The Sugar Isles and Sails of Foam,
The Princess ever doing good,
The Lost Feet ever turning Home;
And knows, no matter what their fate,
Love brings all back at — half-past-eight!