|
Oh, what a fairy elf
From what fairy delph
Pluck thee
out of Mischief-Land
And placed you in my hands?
What merrily impious
Puckish lad
Denuded you of your woodland clad;
Slipped you from whose
Naiads' arms
Into my own, that gladly shelter you from harm?
The little
elfish nymph I call
Mine own, but am not sure at all
That such merry
pluckish style of living
Could possibly be from me deriven,
The
head-strong merriment
Of your own self so lent
To every hour a
delight
That reflects on us so bright.
Such stubborn ways
In pleasing
days
Could not be human wrought;
But, however bought,
That elfin lad
was truly kind
For I am pleased that you are mine.
