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1885–1928

THE FAIRY GOLDSMITH

Elinor Wylie

Here's a wonderful thing, A humming-bird's wing In hammered gold, And store well chosen

Of snowflakes frozen In crystal cold. Black onyx cherries And mistletoe berries

Of chrysoprase, Jade buds, tight shut, All carven and cut In intricate ways.

Here, if you please Are little gilt bees In amber drops Which look like honey,

Translucent and sunny, From clover-tops. Here's an elfin girl Of mother-of-pearl

And moonshine made, With tortoise-shell hair Both dusky and fair In its light and shade.

Here's lacquer laid thin, Like a scarlet skin On an ivory fruit; And a filigree frost

Of frail notes lost From a fairy lute. Here's a turquoise chain Of sun-shower rain

To wear if you wish; And glimmering green With aquamarine, A silvery fish.

Here are pearls all strung On a thread among Pretty pink shells; And bubbles blown

From the opal stone Which ring like bells. Touch them and take them, But do not break them!

Beneath your hand They will wither like foam If you carry them home Out of fairy-land.

O, they never can last Though you hide them fast From moth and from rust; In your monstrous day

They will crumble away Into quicksilver dust.

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THE FAIRY GOLDSMITH · Elinor Wylie · Poetry Cove