The Naughty Fay

Once a naughty fay
Chanced to sprain her wing;
“At her tricks,” they say—
“Naughty little thing!”

Said the little fay
As she lay in pain,
“No more tricks I’ll play
When I’m well again.”

Time heals everything.
Can this be our fay,
She who sprained her wing
Just the other day?

Can she be this fair
Thrifty little thing,
Sewing up a tear
In a beetle’s wing?

Yes,—alas! but oh,
Not a thrifty elf;
Of course she has to sew
What she tore herself!