THE ASPHODEL.
7
The moisture chilled her tender limbs,
She trembled on her bed,
The hoarse sea-moanings tired her heart,
And hurt her throbbing head.
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.
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.
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.
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.
