Poems (Trask)/The Asphodel
THE ASPHODEL.
A fairy queen, one radiant night, Strayed from her fabled sphere, Down through the crimson clouds that filled The mellow atmosphere; She saw this earth hung like a lamp In the great silent void, A miracle of wondrous form,— A finger-mark of God.
She folded up her breezy wings To visit this new land, And sank upon a sea-weed leaf Down on the harbor sand; The moisture chilled her tender limbs, She trembled on her bed, The hoarse sea-moanings tired her heart, And hurt her throbbing head.
She said, "I'll call my minions down To build a palace hall, Where I can dwell whene'er I choose To make this earth a call." She struck her lute, a blade of grass,— A hundred fairies came, With little wands of yellow light And crowns of amber flame.
Soon as she told her royal wish They bowed to the behest, And flew away, each with her hand Of fealty on her breast. A palace rose: its towers were gold, Its walls of crimson silk, Its windows of the clearest pearl, Its floors as white as milk.
Triumphant went the fairy queen Her new-made home to see; A gallant orchestra there was To greet her majesty. Robins, and bees, and grasshoppers, Sang each a rare refrain,—And over all the moonlight poured Its glittering silver rain.
A miracle of art and taste The fairy palace stood; The royal perfume of its sweets Floating for many a rood. And to this day maids love the flower Where the queen came to dwell, And bind within their wealth of curls The peerless Asphodel.