Explore "Evening Primroses" by Helen Gray Cone on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
OBERON
While gray was the summer evening, / Hast never a small sprite seen / Lighting the fragrant torches / For the feast of the Fairy Queen?
The buds on the primrose-bushes / Upspring into yellow light / But ever the wee deft spirit / Escapes my bewildered sight.
Yet oft, through the dusky garden, / A dainty white moth will fly, / Or, pink as a pink rose-petal, / One lightly will waver by.
Perhaps 'tis the shape he comes in, / Perhaps it is he indeed, / Sir Moth, or the merry Cobweb, / Or the whimsical Mustard-seed!