Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/Everything

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EVERYTHING. [A FAIRY TALE.]
You'd call his room a pleasant place:Satin and rose-wood, lights and lace,And fruits and wines were there. (Ah, well!)And yet the rich man rang his bell,—When lo! he saw a fairy flitFrom outside dusk to answer it.
Her flower-like eyes, so faint and blue,Looked at him through her veil of dew;Though every gracious thing he had,His face was fretful, tired, and sad:—"Pray, sir," she whispered, "did you ring?"He said: "Yes, I want—everything!"
The fairy laughed and walked away.Ragged and rosy at his play,A boy who had the grass, the dew,Birds, bees, the sun, the stars, like you,She met: "What do you want?" sighed she."Oh, I have everything!" said he.
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