A band of fairies gleefully own up to their late-night orchard raids. They’re tiny, full of antic energy, and though they mostly keep to the moonlight, they can’t resist darting among the trees. The speaker’s voice brims with mischievous delight, like a confiding whisper before a naughty adventure. There’s a playful logic at work: the thrill of taking something in secret makes it infinitely more delicious. A stolen kiss, a hidden glance in a chapel, a crisp apple—each one becomes sweeter simply because it’s forbidden. The mood is light as a dance, all bouncy rhymes and quick rhythms that make you smile. By the final lines, they’ve convinced us that peeling the fruit would be a boring chore without the spice of stealing. The poem doesn’t moralize; it just invites you into a giddy, moonlit game where rule-breaking is a secret pleasure.
Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard — Summary
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic, Of dimensions not gigantic, Though the moonshine mostly keep us, Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing, Then's the time for orchard-robbing; Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling, Were it not for stealing, stealing.