Poems (Trask)/The Asphodel

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

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.