Poems. Fanny Kemble

the midsummer breeze: it died away

      Towards heaven, as though it sank into the clouds,

      That one by one melted like flakes of snow

      In the moonbeams.  Then came a rushing sound,

      Like countless wings of bees, or butterflies;

      And suddenly, as far as eye might view,

      The coast was peopled with a world of elves,

      Who in fantastic ringlets danced around,

      With antic gestures, and wild beckoning motion,

      Aimed at the moon.  White was their snowy vesture,

      And shining as the Alps, when that the sun

      Gems their pale robes with diamonds.  On their heads

      Were wreaths of crimson and of yellow foxglove.

      They were all fair, and light as dreams; anon