'Twas late on an eve in midsummer,
I fell sleeping on the green;
And when I woke in wonder, I saw
What few mortal men have seen:
Changelings, faes, and sprites, a mighty swarm,
All had taken to the air,
And before them passed their Fairy Queen,
She, the fairest of the fair;
And her mantle was of Queen Anne's lace,
Her skirt was of grass-green silk,
And round her crown lay pearls, one, two, three
As white as a cowslip's milk;
And then came her ladies, one, two, three,
All radiant by her side.
"Come hither," she cried, "sweet bonny knight!"
Take a fairy for your bride!"
And one wore a gown of wild thyme blooms,
One wore bluebells in her hair,
And one bore a cloak of elder leaves,
Each was fairer than the fair.
"Then who shall ye choose, my bonny knight?
Pray, which of my ladies, one, two, three?"
"'Tis none of they maidens, lady fair~
'Tis thee that I choose, 'tis thee!"
"So that's who ye choose, my bonny knight?
Ah, what fools ye mortals be!
Ye're not the first of my suitors, and~
'Tis I who must choose, not ye!"
Without another word she faded
Like gray mist upon the moor,
And she left me there alone again,
Just as I had been before.
~Michael Patrick Hearn
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