The Fairy Doctor
The fairy doctor comes our way
Over the sorrel-covered wold—
Now sadly, now unearthly gay,
A little withered man, and old.
He knows by signs of secret wit
The man whose hour of death draws nigh,
And who will moan in the under pit,
And who foregather in the sky.
He sees the fairy hosting move
By heath or hollow or rushy mere,
And then his heart fills full of love,
And full his eyes of fairy cheer.
Cures he hath for cow or goat
With fairy-smitten udders dry—
Cures for calves with ’plaining throat,
That sickening near their mothers lie;
And many a herb and many a spell
For hurts and ails and lover’s moan—
For all save him who pining fell,
Glamoured by fairies for their own.
Now be courteous, now be kind,
Lest he may some glamour fold
Closely round us, body and mind—
The little withered man, and old.