"The Fairy Lover"

It is by yonder thorn that I saw the fairy host
(O low night wind, O wind of the west!)
My love rode by, there was gold upon his brow,
And since that day I can neither eat nor rest

I dare not pray lest I should forget his face
(O black north wind blowing cold beneath the sky!)
His face and his eyes shine between me and the sun:
If I may not be with him I would rather die.

They tell me I am cursed and I will lose my soul,
(O red wind shrieking o're the thorn-grown dun!)
But he is my love and I go to him to-night.
Who rides when the thorn glistens white beneath the moon.

He will call my name and lift me to his breast.
(Blow soft O wind'neath the stars of the south!)
I care not for heaven and I fear not hell
If I have but the kisses of his proud red mouth.

--Moireen Fox

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