Treasure Island

Dora Sigerson Shorter

(1866-1918 / Ireland)

A Changeling


My Future lay cradled asleep;
I kissed the sweet mouth and she smiled
With a promise of all she should be,
Womanhood crowning the child—
Her wings that would grow with her growth,
Till they bore her to heaven at last;
When she queened in the world awhile,
Then all the sweet mockery past.
So closing my eyes while I dreamt,
Thus praying on her behalf,
I could but think I had slept,
For I woke with an elfin laugh.
What fairy had crept through the door
To leave me this changeling child,
Who looked on my tears with a laugh,
And mocked at my prayers as she smiled?

Submitted: Wednesday, September 29, 2010

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  • Francis Lynch (4/20/2014 10:54:00 PM)

    Feeling a bit displaced, as was usual with the Irish under seven hundred fucking years of British tyranny. (Report) Reply

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