[When the Servians see the sun-rays of a summer shower they say it is the fairies combing their hair.] OVER the meadow a shower is roaming; Just beyond is the summer sun; Fair is the hair that the fays are combing -- Myth come true! here's my dainty one Tripping the path in the wind's soft blowing; Her slender form through her gown is showing, Her foot scarce whispers the way she's going. "Come, my bright one, come, my soul, Let my kisses be your goal." But the path has heard my sighing, Turns aside, and leads my fay Into the forest, love defying. Path, accursed be! -- but stay! Lost to love each moment gliding, What if in the woodland hiding Still for me my fay be biding! ... "Wait, my bright one, wait, my soul, Your sweet kisses are my goal." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON APPLES OF HESPERIDES by AMY LOWELL SPRING DAY: NIGHT AND SLEEP by AMY LOWELL NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |