Herbert Asquith

The Fairy Lover

SHE lay beneath an apple tree,
   A marble maiden, free from care;
And round her was a canopy
   Of moonlit air.
 
He made his bed among the leaf,
   And on a petal softly blown,
He touched a vein upon her brow
   With grief unknown.
 
Then lightly, where the lashes fall,
   Entered the chamber of her soul;
And, finding there a silver bell,
   He made it toll.
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