My elves the twain will kindly greet.
And ye, in prose or minstrel lays,
When ye shall read of woodland fays,
Have friendly feeling for the elves
Who love you as they love themselves.
No more amid our glade to roam—
The brother leads his sister home.
From Fairy-land the twain depart,
To gladden soon a mother's heart,
And make a saddened home, to-night,