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THE ELFIN GROVE
Fairy Queen!
Fairy Queen!
Mortal steps no more are seen;
Now we may
Down and play
O'er the daisied green.
Lightly, lightly, Fairy Queen!
Trip it gently o'er the green!
Fairies gay,
Trip away,
Round about your lady Queen!
Fairies gay,
Trip away,
Round about your Queen!
Poor Elfie mourned their loss the most; and would spend whole hours in looking upon the rose that her playfellow had given her, and singing over it the pretty airs she had taught her: till at length, when the year's charm had passed away, and it began to fade, she planted the stalk in her garden, and there it grew and grew, till she could sit under the shade of it, and think of her friend Gossamer.
