Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/39

 The third, that was a yellow man,
 * Out of his bundle picks a groat,

"La, by the Angel of St. Ann,
 * And I must go without."

That changeling, lean and icy-lipped,
 * Touched crust, and bone, and groat, and lo!

Beneath her finger taper-tipped
 * The magic all ran through.

Instead of crust a peacock pie,
 * Instead of bone sweet venison,

Instead of groat a while lily
 * With seven blooms thereon.

And each fair cup was deep with wine:
 * Such was the changeling's charily.

The sweet feast was enough for nine,
 * But not too much for three.

O toothsome meat in jelly froze!
 * O tender haunch of elfin stag!

O rich the odour that arose!
 * O plump with scraps each bag!

There, in the daybreak gold and wild,
 * Each merry-hearted beggar man

Drank deep unto the fairy child,
 * And blessed the good St. Ann.