Read poem years ago ('60s) about child of peace stolen by ? fairies/ goblins/ trolls. Replaced child in cradle gnashed metal teeth. Peace, the mother, though distraught, embraced changling child and raised him as her own since her own child could not be found. I would like to use poem in peace project in classroom, but know nothing beyond above information. Help?

This one?

William Butler Yeats
The Stolen Child


Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With afacry, hand in hand,
For the world's morefull of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you
can understand.

Les

Here's a passage from Shakespeare which may fit the bill:

With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her
And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes:

from a Midsummer Night's Dream


Les

Librarian found it. Thank you for helping.

The Child of Peace -- Selma Lagerlof translated by Charles W. Stork from Swedish

Peace, the one-time radiant goddess,
now sits bent with heavy sorrow;
For the wicked war-troll, snatching
From its crib her lvoely infant,
Left another brat as changeling,
Cross, claw-fingered, and mis-shapen,
Thirsting after blood and tear-streams,
Hungering, too, for death and ravage,
Peace, ah woe is thee, poor mother!

These two courses hast thou, goddess:
Fling the troll child from its cradle,
Leave it on the public highway,
Let it grow into a savage,
Free from all restraint of nurture
Till it gains the strength of manhood;
or adopt it to your bosom,
Take it to your mother bosom!

Yield not to the fit of anger,
But caress the changeling infant,
Tame it, Peace, with kind thoughts tame it,
Mould its nature with your mildness,
Till it lose its claws and tushes,
And at last some radiant morning
Be transformed into the lost one
and you sit there blind with gladness,
With your own child in your bosom.