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THE FLOWER AND THE FAIRY.
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moone's sphere.
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
Shakspeare.
And that same dew, which sometimes on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flow'ret's eyes,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
Ibid.
A Fairy, whose task was to dwell upon earth,
Watching the birth
And height'ning the beauty of Summer Flowers,
As the little buds oped to the dews and showers,
Aweary grew
Of each tint and hue
That so long she had gazed on through days and hours.
And the Fairy threw
Around o'er the garden a wistful gaze,
That rested on bower, and bank, and maze;
And the Fairy sighed,
And the flowers replied,
In echoes of fragrance, that fanned along
Like a butterfly's wing or an elfin song.
As the soft breath died
