When the wind blows in the heavens
and clouds cast a violet hue
I see upon a pure white mount
a figure bathed in shining dew
 
in whose hand is held a scepter
tipped with gold and precious gems
dancing in the fading twilight
amidst the blooming silky stems
 
of flowers delicatedly chiseled
out of moonstone and silver thistle.
'Tis not from luck I see this sight
but from the Fay-Queen's kiss one night
 
when I grew tired of being mortal
with one kiss she closed the portal
between the worlds of Man and Fay—
like them I love night, shun the day.