famous poem

i stand in the cold gray weather
have we no shame?
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
if it
there's one that i once loved so much
winged shadows sweeping by
sun and wind and beat of sea
a life on the ocean wave
in an old chamber softly lit
daughter, thou art come to die
from our hidden places
over the river, on the hill
there were three in the meadow by the brook