T

HE Queen of Fairies passed last night,
The greenwood dancing through;
I watched her from my window-pane,
The round moon saw her too.
Her light wings fluttered airily,
A casket she did hold,
And lo! she scattered strings of pearls,
And shining beads of gold.
At break of day I hurried down,
To gather them with care;
Yet nought I saw but buttercups
And daisies lying there.
So now, I think the buttercups
And daisies in the green
Are jewels from the treasure-store
Of the kind Fairy Queen.