In an opal dream cave, I found a fairy,
Her wings were frailer than flower petals
Frailer fr than snowflakes
She was not frightened but poised on my finger,
Then delicately walked into my hand.
I shut the two palms of my hand together
And held her prisoner.
I carried her out of the opal cave,
Then opened my hands.
First, she became thistledown,
Then a mote in a sunbeam,
Then-nothing at all.
Empty now is my opal dream cave.
Robert Burns
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