Now are the bridals of the leafy wood, O'er dusky brooks the golden sunbars fall, Birds fan the moonbeams in the balmy dark-- Look me! the banners of the holy rood Shake in the battle's roar; sweet duty's call Wings all my spirit like a soaring lark.
Under the yellow chestnut tree The children played right merrily.
From leafy gold came pattering down The prickly burs with nuts of brown.
"I do believe," said bright-eyed May, "We're pelted by some startled fay!
For fairies love no tree so well As chestnut broad in which to dwell."
"Tell us a fairy tale," they said, "A fairy tale," they eager pled,
"About the fairies of to-day!" And circled round the wise-eyed May.
With air of one who tells new truth, The gentle May, with touch of ruth,
This tale of Elfland sweetly told, While all stood deep in autumn's gold:
"Long, long ago the fairies found Their homes in flowers on the ground.
The buttercups were full of them, And pansies sparkled like a gem.
But fields by men were often mown, The flowers were plucked as soon as grown.
Thus without tents to shed cold dews, The pixies lost their brilliant hues.
Their kirtles green and mantles gold Were crushed and torn and smeared with mould.
(You should have seen Mab's ermine cape, Draggled in muck till black as crape!)
At last, his gossamer hammocks gone, Their daylight king, bright Oberon,
(Who could not find two crimson heads Of clover strung with spider-webs)
And Mab, the moonlight queen of elves Took solemn counsel with themselves.
'Twas in the early summer days They met at twilight all the fays,
Under a grove with fronded plumes, Whose trees were white with spikes of blooms.
With elfin lance of wild-bee sting Stood Oberon, at the outer ring.
His knights each wore upon his breast A firefly lamp in beetle's vest.
With glow-worm crown of greenish light, Sitting her fairy palfrey white,
The queen, by wave of saffron brand, Hushed into silence fairyland.
Then with her sandaled foot she pricked Her wasp-sting spur (and palfrey kicked!)--
Her moonbeam bridle firm in grip, She plied the silken milkweed whip,
And rode straight up the waiting tree, And out each branch its blooms to see.
When Mab (her own and palfrey's wings Of gauzy blue outspread) the rings
Of wistful pixies leapt into, Sitting erect her horse so true,