On trees of fairyland
grow peacock feathers of daylight colors
like an Austrian fan.
But there is a strange thing!
I have heard that night gathers these feathers
for her cloak;
I have heard that the stars, the moon,
are the eyes of peacock feathers
from fairy trees.
It is a thing that may be,
but I should not be sure of it, my dear,
if I were you!
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