"Must I speak? She is blind
Be his faults what they will
To her he is kind.
Let me watch and be still:
Her children beguiling
Each hour as it flies,
The world ever smiling,
Untroubled her skies.
"Shall I fly? If I would
She might look e'en on me;
She is true, she is good,
Yet I cannot but see
Some moment unwary
Might bring back again
That thought—— Ah! kind fairy,
Is true love all pain?"
Comes again the eventide:
Happy wife as happy bride,
Happy mother, she has dwelt,
Pain unknown and grief unfelt
Till her lord to rest was laid.
Now in mourning weeds arrayed
She has sought the fairy spring;
Hears once more its murmuring,
Sees once more the bees assemble
There the honeysuckles tremble,
Sees the armoured dragon-fly
And the kingfisher dart by,
Sees the blue forget-me-not
Cluster in the shielded spot,
Sees forsooth, with brimming eyes,
Children of the earth and skies;
Nothing harmful dares to roam
Near the fairy-haunted home.
"Fairy, he has gone to rest,
His the perfect love and best!"
Answered her the water's swell,
"Not the best—he loved thee well."
Wondering even in her tears
Fly her thoughts through bygone years—
"He who lay 'neath roses white,
Was he then the perfect knight?"
Came the answer soft and clear,
"Not the best—he held thee dear."
"Then, as thou didst promise, tell me
How that fairest fate befell me."
"Didst thou mark—a flame his crest—
Him who moved among the rest,
Yet no word of love addressed?