SHE left the talking and laughter, She went to the fairies' glen, Looked into the trembling water, And whispered, "Fairy Gwen, Come, listen to me for a moment, I've a favour to ask, Queen Gwen." Then a sweet sprite parted the wave With swan-white hands from her face, Whose blue eyes a whole heaven gave Back to the blue, boundless space, And, "What is it that you would crave, Kathleen," she said, "of my grace?" She answered, "If I could be fair, Flower-fair, Queen Gwen," said she, "If I had your beams on my hair, Perchance he would look at me; But I am a little plain maiden, And, oh! there is no one but he." The fair sprite leaned on the edge Of the wavelet tipped with gold, Stretched her swan-hand into the sedge, And let it a flower enfold: A small, black-centred water-weed, With a little crest of gold. And she said, "There's death at the core, But a rim of glory round; And if fairness be your heart's store, Kathleen, you must kiss the ground. Yes, die and be buried, Kathleen, And blossom in flowers all round." "Then shall I be fair when I'm dead, And if, if he passes by, Will he wonder, praise me?" she said. "But, oh! Queen Gwen, must I die? Is that the one way to be fair? I cannot," she cried bitterly. The gentle sprite shivered beneath Cold waves of the leaden water, Kathleen walked away from death Into the talking and laughter. Kathleen dreaming her day-dreams, -- Which way did the will-winds waft her? |