THE THREE BEGGARS

‘ Twas autumn daybreak gold and wild,

While past St. Ann's grey tower they shuffled,

Three beggars spied a fairy-child

In crimson mantle muffled.

The daybreak lighted up her face

All pink, and sharp, and emerald-eyed;

She looked on them a little space,

And shrill as hautboy cried:—

“O three tall footsore men of rags

Which walking this gold morn I see,

What will ye give me from your bags

For fairy kisses three?”

The first, that was a reddish man,

Out of his bundle takes a crust:

“La, by the tombstones of St. Ann,

There's fee, if fee ye must!”

The second, that was a chestnut man,

Out of his bundle draws a bone:

“Lo, by the belfry of St. Ann,

And all my breakfast gone!”

The third, that was a yellow man,

Out of his bundle picks a groat,

“La, by the Angel of St. Ann,

And I must go without.”

That changeling, lean and icy-lipped,

Touched crust, and bone, and groat, and lo!

Beneath her finger taper-tipped

The magic all ran through.

Instead of crust a peacock pie,

Instead of bone sweet venison,

Instead of groat a white lily

With seven blooms thereon.

And each fair cup was deep with wine:

Such was the changeling's charity,

The sweet feast was enough for nine,

But not too much for three.

There, in the daybreak gold and wild,

Each merry-hearted beggar man

Drank deep unto the fairy child,

And blessed the good St. Ann.