We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top James Henry Leigh Hunt Poems
Analysis and Comments on Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.