On shadowed hills the heather sprung, And near the pathway low clouds hung To blend with bending trees among The morning mist, and yellow sun; She softly walks on by. The little sparrows flutter near, For, seemingly, they have no fear When e’er a stranger may appear And wander through this meadow clear, Beneath the powdered sky. All flowers show their countenance While blooming o’er the vast expanse To wrap the day in sweet fragrance; As breezes lift them up to dance, The maiden walks along. The water reeds stand in array And watch the pond-side lilies lay; While ducklings, splashing as they play, Send rippled rhythms far away, In silent, deep-blue song. There is a pathway, long and straight, that leads on to a paint-chipped gate; She lifts the latch and does not wait Or even seem to hesitate, But quickly goes inside. A lilac scent fills all the air And petals fall upon her hair, To linger in the softness there, While in this garden, sweet and fair, Alone she will abide. The noontime sun peeks through a pine And scatters shadows on a vine In ever-changing faint design, As she moves in an arching line Up in the azure sky. Inside the glen, a bumble bee Hums his happy melody. Perhaps a maiden he may see Beneath a fragrant bush or tree, By chance—she passes by, into the place where fairies spin fine golden threads so long and thin, With pure delight they laugh and grin And hope to catch a maid therein So she will never roam. Then glitter dust flies through the air, and fairies jump from everywhere! They spread their cadenced wings with care--, That maiden is not yet aware-- This hollow is her home! |
