THE CHANGELING.

There were Faeries two or three,

And a high moon white as wool,

Or a bloom in Faery,

Where the star-thick blossoms be

Star-like beautiful.

There were Faeries two or three,

And a wind as fragrant as

Spicy wafts from Arcady

Rocked the sleeping honey bee

In the clover grass.

There were Faeries two or three,

Wee white caps and red wee shoon,

Buckles at each dainty knee,

“We are come to comfort thee,

With the silver moon.”

There were Faeries two or three,

Buttercups brimmed up with dew,

Winning faces sweet to see,

Then mine eyes closed heavily:

“Faeries, what would you?”

There were Faeries two or three,

And my babe was dreaming deep,

White as whitest ivory,

In its crib of ebony

Rocked and crooned on sleep.

There were Faeries two or three

Standing in the mocking moon,

And mine eyes closed drowsily,

Drowsily and suddenly

There my babe was gone.

Now no Faeries two or three

Loitered in the moon alone;

Jesu, Marie, comfort me!

What is this instead I see —

Ugly skin and bone.

There were Faeries two or three

Stood with buckles on red shoon,

But with evil sorcery

My sweet babe to Faery

They did steal right soon.