The Fairy King was old. He met the Witch of the wold. 'Ah ha, King!' quoth she, 'Now thou art old like me.' 'Nay, Witch!' quoth he, 'I am not old like thee.' The King took off his crown, It almost bent him down; His age was too great To carry such a weight. 'Give it me!' she said, And clapt it on her head. Crown sank to ground; The Witch no more was found. The sweet spring-songs were sung, The Fairy King grew young, His crown was made of flowers, He lived in woods and bowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE IRISH RAPPAREES; A PEASANT BALLAD OF 1691 by CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY THE END OF THE EPISODE by THOMAS HARDY ELEGIAC SONNET: 4. TO THE MOON by CHARLOTTE SMITH TICKER TAPE by ELIZABETH KELTY BEITEL SHADOWS ON THE WALL by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK |