midnight
By the spice and sendal , beads and trumpery trinkets , By the weight of ingots that cost a thousand dead , You shall seek your fortune under hawthorn hedges , -- Come to know your birthright in the land you fled . Sails of my sons and my lovers , I watch for ye through the night , My lamps are trimmed and burning , my hearth is clear and bright . With every sough of the trade-wind that blows across the sea I wake and wait and listen for the call of your hearts to me . By Saint Malo 's lanterns , by Medusa-fires Rolling round your plunging prows in midnight tropic sea , You shall sight the beacon on my headlands lifting -- All sail set , lads , and home again to me ! Where the moor met the woodland beyond the Fairies ' Hill , old Izan went painfully searching for the herbs she had been wont to find there . The woodcutters had opened clearings that gave an unaccustomed look to the place . Fumiter , mercury , gilt-cups , four-leaved grass and the delicate blossoms of herb-robert came out to meet the sun with a half-scared look , and wished they had stayed underground .