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XV FELICIA'S FAN
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XV
FELICIA'S FAN

I

Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
A fairy calendar I call.
She opes it, and you smell the spring;
She furls it, and the snowflakes fall.

24

Nay, more: Watteau-like, on one side,
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
Is wrought with shepherdesses, tied
By cherubs in a silken string.
But on the other, dark elves cling
To lily or fern-leaf, and burlesque
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
With goblin antics Rembrandtesque.
And so the airiest little sway
Has power distractingly to bring
From day to night, from night to day
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing.

II

Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
Such winnowing welcomes now pervade,
You dream that she hath stolen a wing
From Cupid's roseate shoulder-blade.
Anon, if adverse moods prevail,
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
Is flirted like the fluttering sail
Where barks are tossed and tempests ring.
But when the tale of love's keen sting
Your frenzied murmurs may have breathed,
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing,
Shuts tightly, as though a dagger sheathed.

25

Yet fate, however fleet or slack,
Shall turn at last, when Love grows king.
To mere innocuous bric-a-brac
Felicia's fan, that flimsy thing!