Alms in Autumn

Spindle-wood, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray, A little flaming lantern to light me on my way? The fairy folk have vanished from the meadow and the glen, And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again; Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light To show the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night. Ash tree, ash tree, throw me, if you please, Throw me down a slender bunch of russet-gold keys; I fear the gates of fairyland may all be shut fast; Give me of your magic keys that I may get past; I’ll tie them to my girdle, that as I go along My heart may find a comfort in their tiny tinkling song. Holly bush, holly bush, help me in my task, A pocketful of berries is all the alms I ask; A pocketful of berries to thread on glowing strands (I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands); So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright, They’ll set the realms of fairyland a-dancing with delight.