Poem about a young traveler who sees a fairy bathing in an enchanted spring. |
A young traveler settled in the woods His journey not done, yet hardly begun. He stopped to rest in a shady acre A circle of sunlight cascading down. He looked around the vast expanse of green When his sight affixed upon a flower, A purple rose sitting just above a Log covered in toadstools. He moved closer To the weed, having never in his life Seen anything so beautiful as it. His hand caressed the delicate petals, His nose sniffed the tantalizing fragrance. “I shall pluck it and take it home with me,” Thought he, enraptured. Then heard he a voice, A voice so pure, so beautiful and dear It said “Who is it? Is somebody there?” The boy startled, charming though the words were. The voice spoke again, “Do not be alarmed. I do not wish you to leave. Pray, stay now. I would love to have some new company.” He traced the voice to the spring, where he passed By so many times as a child, but was Asked not to go near, so as not to vex The spirits that resided in the trees. He parted the hanging willow, and what Did his eyes gaze upon but a maiden Bathing in the spring, its pristine waters. Her fair skin smoother than silk or marble, Glistening with the sunlight that shone through. Her jet black hair entwined with weeds of green. Her lips a red rose, blooming at a kiss. Her eyes an icy blue, calm like the spring. Yet when he gazed upon her his eyes fixed Upon her Plexiglas wings, transparent And glossy, shimmering with the water. “Hark!” cried the nomad, falling on his knees. “Never in my young years did I ever Imagine I’d gaze upon thee! Now all My cherished memories up until now Have been rendered cheap trifles by this day! Thou art a daughter of Titania, no?” The nymph bowed. “Indeed, fair mortal. I am One of those winged guardians of this Forest, the earthmother of us all! I Reside amidst the trees with my siblings, Spotting any mortal who ventures by, Deciding whether to blow him a kiss, Or a curse. We are well-concealed from sight. One may even look right at us without Spotting us. I am of the faerie race!” The youth heaved a heavy sigh. “As a child I have heard tales about thee and thy race! Every night, my mother would tuck me in And tell me tales of the spirits and sprites Who lived out of human sight! I see that You are cleansing in this spring. Let me close These willows and we shall continue our Conversation anon.” To which the nymph Responded, “No! You shall not leave my sight. You see, I have grown up far from humans, Knowing as little of your race as you Of mine. If you gaze upon me in awe, I gaze on you in dire fascination! I wish to speak with you more, to know more About your kind. Tell me stories worthy Of the pens of the Greeks long, long ago.” The traveler shook like a boy smitten, Young enough to be one himself. “Fair elf, Would that I was worthier to cavort In your company. Pray, tell me your name.” “Quite. I am Maybaline, a mere nymph, not The spirit of aught in particular; This wood is my home, though I suppose home Is anywhere for such a lowly nymph As me. But, pray, tell me, what is your name?” The nomad bowed. “You may call me Ian. I am lowly too (though you not so much, Seeing as I am but a mere mortal); I travel from town to town, hoping to Get work, though I have not chosen a trade. A pitiable predicament, this, Though I am a small human, you a nymph, A spirit of the woods. The chains that hold Me down do not impede thee horribly.” “Oh, thou mortal, how misguided thou art,” Replied the fairy. “My sadness is worse, For our tears are in the rain, our bliss in The sun, our tantrums in the wind. But stop! What is that flower thou carries with you? That purple rose! And how came you by it?” Ian held it out. “I found it, nothing More. At the time it was the most lovely Thing I had seen or touched (though now thou has Passed it) that I just had to pluck it from Its branch. Forgive me for disturbing it, But I must have it, at whatever cost.” But Maybaline replied, “What red is this That brushes over my cheeks? Why, thou has Found my spirit flower. I see that you are Confused. Forgive me, and let me explain. Every nymph and faerie is matched to a Flower which bears their essence within it. There is no doubt about it; since thou has Found my flower and brought it to me, thou Are my one true and dear love! Come to me, My darling! Let me take you with me to My abode in the weeds, where you will live With me and no longer know pain, only Bliss and ecstasy reserved for us nymphs!” And so she grabbed him and kissed him, and flew Off to her home in the forest, far from Prying eyes, to take him as her lover And be his mystical bride, forever. |