A little child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,
A fairy thing with red round cheeks
That always finds, and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father’s eyes with light;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love’s excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.

christabel, samuel taylor coleridge
Posted on Wednesday 7th December 2011 with 5 notes
Tagged with fall poetry fairy child samuel taylor coleridge christabel 
  1. sonataforsongbird posted this