She haunts the spring beneath a fairy's guise,
With unbound golden hair and azure eyes;
A wreath of violets in each dainty hand,
And round her sunny brow an emerald band;
While all day long she strays o'er hill and glen,
Through leafy bowers, amid the homes of men;
And when night falls, from out the echoing dells,
The lilies ring for her their crystal bells,
And in the forest's depths she dreams till morn,
Waked by the music of the wild bee's horn.