Poems By Arjava

THREE fairies went aleaping

Adown the glades of May ;

They found a field mouse keeping

A woodland holiday.

Quoth they, " Where is your burrow ?

Our gifts we would bestow."

Quoth he, " In yonder furrow

Where the yellow thistles grow."

" Here's one puff ball for filling

With the grey sow-thistle down,

And a gossamer gramarye shilling

Stamped with Titania's crown ;

And we give you the wing of a cricket

To winnow your store of grain."

—Then they hastened away to their thicket

And he never could find them again.

But always the wing would sever

The dross of earth from the gold.

And always ere winter weather

He would delve away from the cold,

And snug on the pixie pillow

Be wafted and swayed in the air—

Or ferry across the billow

With a shilling to pay his fare.