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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIS REQUEST TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 30 by ALFRED TENNYSON A SHADOW OF THE NIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 1 by WILLIAM BASSE MOON RIDER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |