In blue, cerise, and grey,
A dainty, bonnie thing--
No mortal--just a fay,
From elfin glades astray,
With joys the swallows bring
When they come back with spring.
She came with lovely mien--
The charms of fairy’s art--
No winsomer was seen,
Not Titania, her queen.
She flew into my heart
To rest, and ne’er depart.
My heart is beating high--
The fay is singing there.
Blest tenant, tell me why,
Of mortals, why am I
The happy one to dare
Make captive, fay so rare?
She answered in a song,--
So soft and sweet the tune--
“Pray, why? Have I done wrong
To hide in heart so strong?
Where I may place the boon
Of all the joys of June?”
Oh, winsome, witching sprite,
Who like a mortal came,
In robe of tender light,
To make my hours so bright;
Who brought me Love’s dear fame,
To warm me at its flame.