THOMAS THE RHYMER By MADELEINE NIGHTINGALE THE CHOOSING

As I was fishing by Huntlie Bank

True Thomas he passed by.

“Thomas the Rhymer!” I called his name;

He turned and he looked and back he came.

“And how may I serve you, my pretty child,

Sitting so meek and sitting so mild,

A-fishing the pool where the sedge is rank

Round and about of Huntlie Bank?”

And, oh, but the strangest face had he,

75His coat was as green as the greenest sea,

And it seemed, as he stood and stared at me,

There was magic in his eye.

He held me an apple in his right hand

—The half of a fairy-man was he—

But up I got me and curtsied low,

Staid as a duchess and twice as slow;

And all my petticoats flounced as neat

As a daisy’s petals about my feet.

“Nay, prithee,” said I, “good sir, if you

Be going to Elfland, why, take me too.”

He clippered a clap of his velvet shoon

And a little white road fell out of the moon.

Quoth he, “If we’re starting we’d best start soon

Or we’ll never be home for tea.”

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