THE OLD TOWN

    I fell, one nigeen years ago, into he power of faery.

    I er—friends and relations of my oo pick stories out of an old countryman; and  ions ed by ories of apparitions, and t us, unknoo us, to t ion of trees t made t lig see anytil oes, so far as I can recollect, looking over tones and brambles and elder-bus lig seemed, mounting up sloo lige or t last a brigorc all in suc seems all so unreal, t I ten of it until no my recollections of ty  be untrustalked it over  meagre recollections  sense of unreality  day I able as s, and  any emotion of unreality, and I remember t distinctness and confidence. tting reading under a large old-fasing a couple of yards a it I ly, ing beside my er t for some days came ots and sounds, not to me but to ts. No  ters of fire t vanis  in ty ures orees w lig?

    1902.