"The stories that the fairies told I learnt in English lanes of old, Where honeysuckle, wreathing high, Twined with the wild rose towards the sky, Or where pink-tinged anemones Grew thousand starred beneath the trees. I saw them, too, in London town, But sly and cautious, glancing down, Where in the grass the crocus grow And ladies ride in Rotten Row, St James's Park's a garden meet For tiny babes and fairy feet. But since I came to Germany, The good folk oftener talk to me; I find them in their native home When through the forest depths I roam, When through the trees blue mountains shine, The heart of fairyland is mine."