130
WAS Christmas-tide, and evergreens
Shrouded the pictures on the wall:
Hushed was the sportive throng awhile
Amid the old ancestral hall,
When climbed a blue-eyed child upon my knee,
And sadly thus began to question me:
“Father,” she said, “I want to know
Why sister Jane said yesterday
That fairies, elves, and goblins queer
No longer sport about and play
Among the moonlit ruins old, or where
The greener rings their presence still declare?
“Dear father, say it isn’t true
That Cinderella’s gone away,
That fairy godmothers no more
Bring gifts of coach and horses grey,
Or that the darling, bold, adventurous Jack
Has climbed his beanstalk never to come back?
“Is there no wondrous lamp whose touch
Will call the ready genie up?
And does that other valiant Jack
No more with stupid giants sup?
No shoes of swiftness, and no shining blade,
Prompt to be drawn for captive Princess’ aid?”
