The Island Of Fay

It was during one of my lonely journeyings
That I chanced upon a certain island
On all sides arose the verdant walls of the forest
A little river seemed to have no exit from its prison
On the other side there poured down into the valley
A rich golden waterfall from the sunset of the sky

My position enabled me to see both
The eastern and western extremities of the island
It glowed and blushed beneath the eyes of the slant sunlight
And fairly laughed with flowers

There seemed a deep sense of life and joy about all
The other eastern end of the island
Was whelmed in the blackest shade
That fell upon the water and seemed
To bury itself therein

"If ever island were enchanted," said I to myself, "this is it"
It appeared to me that the form of a fay
Made its way slowly into the darkness
From out the light at the western end of the island
While within the influence of the sunbeams
Her attitude seemed indicative of joy
But sorrow deformed it as she passed within the shade

As she came into the shade
Her shadow fell from her
And was swallowed up in the dark water
Making its blackness more black
She floated again from out the light and into the gloom
And again her shadow fell from her into the darkness water
And again, and again she made the circuit of the island
And at each issuing into the light there
was more sorrow about her person

While it grew feebler and far fainter and more indistinct
And at each passage into the gloom there fell from her a darker shade
Which became whelmed in a shadow more black much more black