The Fairy King was old. He met the Witch of the wold. 'Ah ha, King!' quoth she, 'Now thou art old like me.' 'Nay, Witch!' quoth he, 'I am not old like thee.' The King took off his crown, It almost bent him down; His age was too great To carry such a weight. 'Give it me!' she said, And clapt it on her head. Crown sank to ground; The Witch no more was found. The sweet spring-songs were sung, The Fairy King grew young, His crown was made of flowers, He lived in woods and bowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ECLOGUE: THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES ELECTRIC LIGHT-VERSE by L. ALLEN BECK SONNET TO ZOE KING by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE SEA GULL by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD A LEAVE-TAKING: 1 by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE DON JUAN: CANTO 11 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |