The Piper

The Piper comes and the Piper goes,
His pipe is carven of willow-wood,
One tune of it changes our beating blood 
To water: another tune he blows 
And fire's in our feet, but no man knows 
If sad or glad be the Piper's mood. 

He plants sweet grapes and he gathers sloes,
Uproots the cherry, and leaves the weed, 
Leans on a spear, though his hand must bleed, 
And loveless ever mid lovers goes, 
Though all hearths listen for him, he knows, 
And covered for him is the fire's red seed. 

The Piper's eyes are as deep as the sea,
Sea-gray, sea-green: and what man can tell 
That meets his eyes if 'tis ill or well 
To look and forget, or remember and be 
For ever under the Piper's spell, 
Swayed by him as a wind-swayed tree? 

Over the world the red wind blows,
Darkens the sea and veils the sun,
The Piper under the twilight goes 
And shepherds our wandering wills as one: 
The web of our thoughts is by him undone. 
Who leads the Piper there's no one knows.