I

All the poppies, in their beds Nodding crumpled, crimson heads; And the larkspurs, in whose ears Twilight hangs, like twinkling tears, Sleepy jewels of the rain; All the violets, that strain Eyes of amaranthine gleam; And the clover-blooms that dream With pink baby-fists closed tight,-- They can hear upon this night, Noiseless as the moon's white light, Footsteps and the glimmering flight, Shimmering flight, Of the Fairies.