A TINY fay
Deep nestling lay
In a purple bay
Unruffled
On whose crystal floor
The distant roar
From the surf-bound shore
Was muffled.
With his fairy wife
He passed his life
Undimmed by strife
Or quarrel;
And the live-long day
They would merrily play
Through a labyrinth gay
With coral.
They loved to dwell
In a pearly shell,
And to deck their cell
With amber:
Or amid the caves
That the ripplet laves
And the beryl paves
To clamber.
By the limpet’s home
And the vaulted dome
Where the starfish roam
They’d linger;
In the mackerel’s jaw
And the lobster’s claw
They’d push and withdraw
A finger.
And queer little things
With filmy wings
And floating strings
To guide them,
Of softest mould,
In swarms untold,
Tumbled and rolled
Beside them.
On a darting shrimp
Our frolicsome imp
With bridle of gimp
Would gambol;
Or astride on the back
Of a sea-horse black
(As a gentleman’s hack)
He’d amble.
Of emerald green
And sapphire’s sheen
He made his queen
A tiar;
And the merry two
Their whole life through
Were as happy as you
And I are.
But if you say
You think this lay
Of the tiny fay
Too silly,
Let it have such praise
As my eye betrays
To your own sweet gaze,
My Millie!
For a man, he tries,
And he toils and sighs,
To be mighty wise
And witty;
But a dear little dame
Has enough of fame
If she wins the name
Of pretty.