Classic Poem

It was on Midsummer Eve
I made wishes three,
Since the fairies gave me leave
And the thing might be.

And the first wish was for peace,
And the next for rest,
And the next — the fear might cease
That possessed my breast.

And straightway my lover turned
That these things might be,
Kissed my lips with lips that yearned,
Laughed, and left me free.

So came peace and so came rest;
Yea, but who could tell
That the heart within my breast
Seemed an empty shell,

Void of all unrest and fear?
Oh, but this is true,
I would bear and hold them dear
For that love I knew.

So on next Midsummer Eve
I shall wish again
For my olden right to grieve,
And my ancient pain.

Better these than that I lack,
I shall wish once more,
And my lover will come back
Laughing through the door.