(Belgium, July 1917)
Powdered and perfumed the full bee
Winged heavily across the clover,
And where the hills were dim with dew,
Purple and blue the west leaned over.
A willow spray dipped in the stream,
Moving a gleam of silver ringing,
And by a finny creek a maid
Filled all the shade with softest singing.
Listening, my heart and soul at strife,
On the edge of life I seemed to hover,
For I knew my love had come at last,
That my joy was past and my gladness over.
I tiptoed gently up and stooped
Above her looped and shining tresses,
And asked her of her kin and name,
And why she came from fairy places.
( She told me of a sunny coast )
By Francis Ledwidge
[Francis Edward Ledwidge was killed in action July 31, 1917, on the opening day of the Battle of Passchendaele.]
Originally posted by duathir at Francis Ledwidge, 'The Lanawn Shee'