After writing a Minute poem, which was okay as far as it went, I thought I’d extend the idea to make a true ballad form.

The changeling
They came and stole my child away,
on silent feet,
that flew so fleet,
they came and stole my child away,
one bright and sunny day.
They’d cast a spell upon my sleep,
the crib they found,
made not a sound,
they’d cast a spell upon my sleep,
I dreamed in shadows deep.
I dreamt I saw a fairy host,
with faces bright,
that lit the night,
I dreamt I saw a fairy host
that stole what I loved most.
And when at last I raised my head,
saw gold-bright hair,
a sea-blue stare,
and when at last I raised my head,
my heart was filled with dread.
Yet sometimes on a midnight clear
I hear my child,
so free and wild,
yet sometimes on a midnight clear,
her happiness I hear.
My fairy child you’ll have no throne,
gold in your hair,
nor gold to wear,
my fairy child you’ll have no throne,
but I will love you as mine own.