Longing at thy lips,
Shall I go down with thee to “Far-Away,”
Rolling over the singing bubbles?
Little Fairy,
Little Fairy by a poppy,
Dream in thy hair,
Solitude under thy wings,
Shall I sleep with thee to-night in the golden cup
Under the stars?”
It is easy, in reading it aloud, to recognise that its form is not accidental, but follows, breath for breath, the movements of the mind.