Classic Poem

WHO WORE GREEN ON FRIDAY .

" I am that lady of the air,
The fairy Amabel:
I come from the rose-scented heart
Of a distant Indian dell.
I have left the graceful jessamine,
And flowers of burning bloom,
Whose cups are filled with fairy wine,
To seek this wintry gloom.

I was floating above my tuberose,
(Each fairy woo's a flower)
Drinking the fragrance of its love,
In a silent citron bower;
I chased the bright-winged moths away,
With passion's jealous care;
I folded it, from the sun's warm ray,
And the embrace of air.

Then I saw my page, that humming-bird
Whom I dipped in a falling star,
Burn through the green and quiet wood,
Like a flying gem from far.
And he said, that a sullen English gnome,
Who barbs the darts of snow,
From within his cold and wintry home,
Had sworn to be thy foe.

So I yoked my birds of Paradise,
Whose speed knows no decay,
To a tiny car, which I have framed
Of the sun's violet ray.
And darted hither on the sigh
Of a fairy-widowed rose;
That the lightnings of mine eye
Might subdue thy foes. "