THE SPIKE-ARMED WIGHTS 



In the Nights of Long Ago, 

 When the Fairy Folk had power 

 Gold or Beauty to bestow, 

 They, in magic moonlight rings, 

 Oft were wont to wave their wings 

 And their wands, too, by the hour. 



One sweet Night of Long Ago 

 It befell, as by a pond 

 Strolled a Fairy Lady, slow, 

 She beheld some gallant wights, 

 Heroes of a hundred fights, 

 Lying in afield beyond. 



That sweet Night of Long Ago, 

 In close array the gallants lay, 

 And their armor in the glow 

 Of the moon was wondrous bright, 

 And the splendor gave delight 

 To the wondering Lady Fay. 



That sweet Night of Long Ago, 

 Were they sleeping — were they dead, 

 Smitten by a treacherous foe? 

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