_Dream Of A Fairy._

When all the air was filled with song At morning’s early beam, In musing mood I strolled along Beside a placid stream.

And as I roved the meadow sweet, What bade my heart rejoice? Was it the daisies at my feet? Nay, nor the songster’s voice.

For glancing toward the crystal stream I spied a little child, Upon whose brow the morning beam, With all its beauty smiled:

And on her cheek, so wondrous fair, I saw the ruddy glow,-- Beheld her locks of flaxen hair Wave gently to and fro.

Then with delight I nearer drew, But lo! here ends my theme; I waked--the fairy fled my view-- ’Twas but a happy dream.