. The culprit fay . The beetle guards our holy ground, He flies about the haunted place,And if mortal there be found, He hums in his ears and flaps hisface;The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay, The owlets eyes our lanterns be;Thus we sing, and dance, and play, Round the wild witch-hazel tree* But, hark I from tower on tree-top high The sentry-elf his call has made:A streak is in the eastern sky, Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade !The hill-tops gleam in mornings spring,The skylark shakes his dappled wing,The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn,The cock has crowed, and the Fays are gone*.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidculpritfay01, bookyear1903