OLE BULL.
BY JULIA R. ANAGNOS.
There’s a fairy in the violin,
A Norse imprisoned fay;
She struggles in her master’s arms,
And fain would flit away.
But, like the bird whose prison pours
Song’s gold upon the air,
Stretching our Northern frost–framed walls
To Southern forests rare,
The gentle chord that binds her breaks
The fetters of our care;
The song of her captivity
Makes all our lives more fair.
O gentle Fairy! Lead the way
Through realms of fiction sweet,
The cradles of Sicilian day,
The North–King’s halls of sleet.
The whirlwind and the icy blast
Meet in thy captive wail;
Flowers and gems are round thee cast,
Flung from thy forehead pale;
But, though we glean a golden glow
From the sweet spirit’s strife,
Say, is it fair to hold her so,
A prisoner for life?
O Master, set the fairy free!
End her poetic pain:
Nay, tastes she but the common air,
She’ll soon fly home again!