KATHLEEN

Written for the Pen and Pencil Club at Aubrey House.

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?