Dudas A Prisoner in Fairyland by Algernon Blackwood

The stars ran loose about the sky, Wasting their beauty recklessly, Singing and dancing, Shooting and prancing, Until the Pole Star took command, Changing each wild, disordered band Into a lamp to guide the land A constellation. And so, about my mind and yours, Thought dances, shoots, and wastes its powers, Coming and going, Aimlessly flowing, Until the Pole Star of the Will Captains them wisely, strong, and still, Some dream for others to fulfil With consecration. Selected Poems, Montmorency Minke.

There was a certain air of unreality somewhere in the life at Bourcelles that ministered to fantasy. Rogers had felt it steal over him from the beginning. It was like watching a children's play in which the scenes were laid alternately in the Den, the Pension, and the Forest. Side by side with the grim stern facts of existence ran the coloured spell of fairy make-believe. It was the way they mingled, perhaps, that ministered to this spirit of fantasy.