Sweet Mom Of Riyad

                    I would Love to be a Fairy's Child

Babies born of sprite blood
Never ask for shirt or dress,
Never want since food or blast,
Always beat their center desire:
Jingle sacs full of golden,
Splice when it's seven age old.
Every sprite child might keep
Two firm trots and ten sheep;
Every cause houses, all his personal,
Built from brick or granite stone;
They last cerises, they bleed wild--
I would  love to be a sprite baby.