 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
5
FAIRY GODMOTHERS.
I think the Fairies to my christening came:
But they were wicked sprites, and envious elves,
Who brought me gall, as bitter as themselves,
In tiny tankards wrought with fairy flame.
But they were wicked sprites, and envious elves,
Who brought me gall, as bitter as themselves,
In tiny tankards wrought with fairy flame.
They wished me love of books—each little dame—
With power to read no book upon my shelves;
Fair limbs—for palsy;—Dead Sea fruits by twelves
And every bitter blessing you can name.
With power to read no book upon my shelves;
Fair limbs—for palsy;—Dead Sea fruits by twelves
And every bitter blessing you can name.
But one good Elf there was; and she let fall
A single drop of Poesy's wine of gold
In every little tankard full of gall:
A single drop of Poesy's wine of gold
In every little tankard full of gall:
So year by year, as woes and pains grow old,
The little golden drop is in them all;
But bitterer is the cup than can be told.
The little golden drop is in them all;
But bitterer is the cup than can be told.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |