115
And star-like blossom, and trembling leaf,
Awaits thy wishes in fear and grief.
Has the Jasmine's perfume become less sweet?
Or the Woodbine frail
Too eagerly flung her arms to greet
The Summer gale?
Or has the Ceris-flower not blown?
Sweet guardian, why is thine anger shown?"
Then the Fairy besought the flowers to clear
From their glistening petals each dewy tear;
And unfold on the breeze each pencilled leaf,
For they had not the power to ease her grief:
And she told them how long she had dwelt away
From her home-land, where sprite, and elf, and fay,
Were her frolic-mates—and where sky and air
Were brighter than ever earth's flow'rets were:
And she told them that much as she loved each face,
Blooming around her in light and grace,
Sometimes a sigh
Would rise in her breast, a tear to her eye,
As she thought on sweet Fairy-land's glittering sky;
For though the hue,
To earthly view,
Of many a bud seemed soft and blue,
There was not one
Which recalled to her eye the exquisite shade
Of which Fairy-land's radiant heaven was made.
