We the fairies blithe and antic, Of dimensions not gigantic, Though the moonshine mostly keep us, Oft in orchards frisk and peep us. Stolen sweets are always sweeter; Stolen kisses much completer; Stolen looks are nice in chapels; Stolen, stolen be your apples. When to bed the world are bobbing, Then's the time for orchard-robbing; Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling Were it not for stealing, stealing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADVICE TO A LADY [IN AUTUMN] by PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE FRANCE; THE 18TH YEAR OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS QUATRAIN: THE IRON AGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON READING OF THE DEATH OF THOMAS WOLFE by MARION LOUISE BLISS MAN MUST DO MORE FOR MAN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |