Page:Poems (IA poems00clar).pdf/17

Rh The moisture chilled her tender limbs, She trembled on her bed, The hoarse sea-moanings tired her heart, And hurt her throbbing head. She said. "I'll call my minions down To build a palace hall, Where I can dwell whene'er I choose To make this earth a call." She struck her lute, a blade of grass, – A hundred fairies came, With little wands of yellow light And crowns of amber flame. Soon as she told her royal wish They bowed to the behest, And flew away, each with her hand Of fealty on her breast. A palace rose: its towers were gold, Its walls of crimson silk, Its windows of the clearest pearl, Its Noors as white as milk. Triumphant went the fairy queen Her new-made home to see; A gallant orchestra there was To greet her majesty. Robins, and bees, and grasshoppers, Sang each a rare refrain,-- And over all the moonlight poured Its glittering silver rain.