A lonely little thorn tree

Silver in branch and bloom

Its leaves of woven, starry stuff

Like cloth from faeries’ loom.

Each branch, its thorns like pixies’ pikes

Do glisten in the rain-flecked night

And which good faerie keeps this tree

Be she fair as it to see?

Aye, the good faerie named Silver Thorn

On the wild rainy plains was her ladyship born

And the thorn tree’s old keeper, frail and dull with age

Called upon young Silver Thorn to be her ward’s new sage

For fair and flaxen-haired was Thorn

Naught but moonlight for her wage.

So Silver Thorn keeps her little tree

On the wild rainy plains for all to see

A pretty little thorn tree

Silver in branch and bloom

Its leaves of woven, starry stuff

It glitters in the gloom.

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