University of Virginia Library


159

THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE.

The story, like that of ‘Forget me not,’ is doubtless of German origin; I cannot recall where I found it. My verses first appeared in 1855, with a design by Rossetti, far out-valuing the poem which, in more senses than one, it illustrated. To his extreme fastidiousness it seemed inadequately engraved (it was drawn direct on the wood, after the custom of those days), but in the opinion of good judges, some of whom saw the original drawing, it remains a very characteristic and beautiful work. I possess a copy touched by the artist's own hand, which has some lines darkened and others softened, but is not materially altered in effect. The woodcut has long been unattainable by the general public. The limited number of copies now published are in no respect inferior to those which appeared in the first edition.

When the spinning-room was here,
Came Three Damsels, clothed in white,
With their spindles every night;
One and two and three fair Maidens,
Spinning to a pulsing cadence,
Singing songs of Elfin-Mere;
Till the eleventh hour was toll'd,
Then departed through the wold.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
Three white Lilies, calm and clear,
And they were loved by every one;
Most of all, the Pastor's Son,
Listening to their gentle singing,
Felt his heart go from him, clinging
To these Maids of Elfin-Mere;
Sued each night to make them stay,
Sadden'd when they went away.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
Hands that shook with love and fear
Dared put back the village clock,—
Flew the spindle, turn'd the rock,
Flow'd the song with subtle rounding,
Till the false ‘eleven’ was sounding;

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Then these Maids of Elfin-Mere
Swiftly, softly left the room,
Like three doves on snowy plume.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.
One that night who wander'd near
Heard lamentings by the shore,
Saw at dawn three stains of gore
In the waters fade and dwindle.
Never more with song and spindle
Saw we Maids of Elfin-Mere.
The Pastor's Son did pine and die;
Because true love should never lie.
Years ago, and years ago;
And the tall reeds sigh as the wind doth blow.