TO M. A. B.

(To Miss Marion Terry, “Mary Ann Bessie Terry.”)

The royal MAB, dethroned, discrowned

By fairy rebels wild,

Has found a home on English ground,

And lives an English child.

I know it, Maiden, when I see

A fairy-tale upon your knee—

And note the page that idly lingers

Beneath those still and listless fingers—

And mark those dreamy looks that stray

To some bright vision far away,

Still seeking, in the pictured story,

The memory of a vanished glory.