  Once a naughty fay Chanced to sprain her wing; “At her tricks,” they say— “Naughty little thing!” Said the little fay As she lay in pain, “No more tricks I’ll play When I’m well again.” Time heals everything. Can this be our fay, She who sprained her wing Just the other day? Can she be this fair Thrifty little thing, Sewing up a tear In a beetle’s wing? Yes,—alas! but oh, Not a thrifty elf; Of course she has to sew What she tore herself! |
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