THE FAIRY IN WINTER
(For a drawing by Dorothy Puvis Lathrop)
(For a drawing by Dorothy Puvis Lathrop)
(For a drawing by Dorothy Puvis Lathrop)
THERE was a Fairy—flake of winter—Who, when the snow came, whispering, Silence,Sister crystal to crystal sighing,Making of meadow argent palace,Night a star-sown solitude,Cried 'neath her frozen eaves, 'I burn here!'Wings diaphanous, beating bee-like,Wand within fingers, locks enspangled,Icicle foot, lip sharp as scarlet,She lifted her eyes in her pitch-black hollow—Green as stalks of weeds in water—Breathed: stirred.Rilled from her heart the ichor, coursing,Flamed and awoke her slumbering magic.Softlier than moth's her pinions trembled;Out into blackness, light-like, she flittered,Leaving her hollow cold, forsaken.In air, o'er crystal, rang twangling night-wind.Bare, rimed pine-woods murmured lament.
THERE was a Fairy—flake of winter—Who, when the snow came, whispering, Silence,Sister crystal to crystal sighing,Making of meadow argent palace,Night a star-sown solitude,Cried 'neath her frozen eaves, 'I burn here!'Wings diaphanous, beating bee-like,Wand within fingers, locks enspangled,Icicle foot, lip sharp as scarlet,She lifted her eyes in her pitch-black hollow—Green as stalks of weeds in water—Breathed: stirred.Rilled from her heart the ichor, coursing,Flamed and awoke her slumbering magic.Softlier than moth's her pinions trembled;Out into blackness, light-like, she flittered,Leaving her hollow cold, forsaken.In air, o'er crystal, rang twangling night-wind.Bare, rimed pine-woods murmured lament.
THERE was a Fairy—flake of winter—Who, when the snow came, whispering, Silence,Sister crystal to crystal sighing,Making of meadow argent palace,Night a star-sown solitude,Cried 'neath her frozen eaves, 'I burn here!'
THERE was a Fairy—flake of winter—
Who, when the snow came, whispering, Silence,
Sister crystal to crystal sighing,
Making of meadow argent palace,
Night a star-sown solitude,
Cried 'neath her frozen eaves, 'I burn here!'
Wings diaphanous, beating bee-like,Wand within fingers, locks enspangled,Icicle foot, lip sharp as scarlet,She lifted her eyes in her pitch-black hollow—Green as stalks of weeds in water—Breathed: stirred.
Wings diaphanous, beating bee-like,
Wand within fingers, locks enspangled,
Icicle foot, lip sharp as scarlet,
She lifted her eyes in her pitch-black hollow—
Green as stalks of weeds in water—
Breathed: stirred.
Rilled from her heart the ichor, coursing,Flamed and awoke her slumbering magic.Softlier than moth's her pinions trembled;Out into blackness, light-like, she flittered,Leaving her hollow cold, forsaken.
Rilled from her heart the ichor, coursing,
Flamed and awoke her slumbering magic.
Softlier than moth's her pinions trembled;
Out into blackness, light-like, she flittered,
Leaving her hollow cold, forsaken.
In air, o'er crystal, rang twangling night-wind.Bare, rimed pine-woods murmured lament.
In air, o'er crystal, rang twangling night-wind.
Bare, rimed pine-woods murmured lament.