SPRITE
I am the sprite of the rainbows;
My footfall softly goes
Trippingly over the sunrays,
To light on the cheek of a rose.
I smile from the islands of treetops;
On the breast of a cloud shall I dance-
I am the chill of the evening;
The gossamer wisp of romance.
So ask me not for my ancient name
Nor try to see me clear
I spin my wiles in the minds of men
With a spangle of pagan fear.
I am the age of the oak tree,
My weaving made the spring.
I am the child of the hilltops,
And the pipe of a faerie ring.
I beckon to you from the ocean,
On the curve of a wave I tread-
I am the lover of midnight;
I am the quick of the dead.
So ask me not for a gentle kiss
Nor look for my sidelong smile
I spin my wiles in the hearts of men
I’m the dream of a man beguiled.
I am the scent of the haymow,
My tears are the dew of the dawn;
Back in the dark of the eons
Lies the moment when I was born.
I watch for the moment of waking,
My whisper unsettles the night-
Don’t listen for me in the moondark
I am the maiden of light.
Yet ask me not for the touch of my hand
Nor the sigh of my breath as I pass
I spin my wiles in the knowledge of men
Whose flesh is to me, as the grass.
