Fairy Frilly
Fairy Frilly for half an hour
Went to sleep in a poppy flower-
Went to sleep in her little green frock,
And the time of the ball was ten o' clock.
Quarter to ten and five to ten
Ticked from the dandelion clock again,
But Fairy Frilly was deaf to all,
And ten was the time of the fairy ball!
Little West Wind came by that way,
And he pulled off the petal where Frilly lay,
Pulled it off with the fairy on it,
And blew with a great big breath upon it.
Of sailed the petal, Frilly and all-
And thats how she managed to get to the ball
By Florence Hoaston
Fairy Voyage
If I were just a fairy small,
I'd take a leaf and sail away,
I'd sit astride the stem and guide
It straight to Fairyland and stay.
Author Unknown
Fairy-Land
Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane-
Again- again- again-
Every moment of the night-
Forever changing places-
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down- still down- and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be-
O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea-
Over spirits on the wing-
Ove every drowsy thing-
And buries them quite
In a labyrinth of light-
And then, how deep!- O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like- almost anything-
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before-
Videlicet, a tent-
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
--Edgar Allan Poe
Foreign Lands
Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad in foreign lands.
I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.
I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping in to town.
If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships,
To where the road on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.
By Robert Louis Stevenson
Genius Loci
Twice hath it come, that Presence!--once i’ the grove
That skirts the russet fallow on yonder hill--
And now again, down by the little rill
At sunset. Aye, if thrill of heart may prove,
Twice in these fields, I have felt a Spirit move
Tat was not of the earth! Silent it came,
A living ecstasy without a name,
And seemed to turn the very air to Love.
And yet, O whence? Deep woodlands I have seen
That were as rich, yet lacked that rarer spell;
Lanes as thick-flowered I know, and slopes as green.
Some god it is, some Genius of the place
Doth haunt, methinks, this spot, and loves it well,
And breathes their love in that diffused grace.
E. A. Wodehouse
Goblin FeetI am off down the road
Where the fairy lanterns glowed
And the little pretty flitter-mice are flying
A slender band of gray
It runs creepily away
And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing.
The air is full of wings,
And of blundery beetle-things
That warn you with their whirring and their humming.
O! I hear the tiny horns
Of enchanged leprechauns
And the padded feet of many gnomes a-coming!
O! the lights! o! the gleams! O! the little twinkly sounds!
O! the rustle of their noiseless little robes!
O! the echo of their feet - of their happy little feet!
O! the swinging lamps in the starlit globes.
I must follow in their train
Down the crooked fairy lane
Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone.
And where silvery they sing
In a moving moonlit ring
All a twinkle with the jewels they have on.
They are fading round the turn
Where the glow worms palely burn
And the echo of their padding feet is dying!
O! it's knocking at my heart-
Let me go! let me start!
For the little magic hours are all a-flying.
O! the warmth! O! the hum! O! the colors in the dark!
O! the gauzy wings of golden honey-flies!
O! the music of their feet - of their dancing goblin feet!
O! the magic! O! the sorrow when it dies.
--J.R.R. Tolkein
Have you ever watched the Fairies?
Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done
Spreading out their litting wings to dry them in the sun?
I have, I have! Isn't it fun?
Have you heard the fairies all among the limes
Singing little fairy tunes to little fairy rhymes?
I have, I have, lots and lots of times!
Have you seen the fairies dancing in the air
And dashing off behind the stars to tidy up their hair?
I have, I have: I've been there!
By Rose Fyleman
I Keep Three Wishes Ready
I keep three wishes ready,
Lest I should chance to meet,
Any day a fairy
Coming down the street.
I'd hate to have stammer,
Or have to think them out,
For it's very hard to think things up
When a fairy is about.
And I'd hate to lose my wishes,
For fairies fly away,
And perhaps I'd never chance
On any other day.
So I keeep three wishes ready,
Lest I should chance to meet,
Any day a fairy
Coming down the street.
By Anette Wynne
I'd Love to be A Fairy's Child
Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep
Two ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild--
I'd love to be a Fairy's child.
Robert Graves
If You See A Fairy Ring
If you see a fairy ring
In a field of grass,
Very lightly step around,
Tiptoe as you pass;
Last night fairies frolicked there,
And they're sleeping somewhere near.
If you see a tiny fay
Lying fast asleep,
Shut your eyes and run away,
Do not stay or peep;
And be sure you never tell,
Or you'll break a fairy spell.
--William Shakespeare
Into The Wild Oaks
Into the wild oaks we dance,
To sing and play and find romance,
For in oak limbs the fae folk play,
And beckon us back the following day.
Scented of nectar and twilight's mist,
Surely you felt that faery's kiss!
What? You can't see them prancing wild?
Then sadly, you've lost your eyes-of-a-child.
Come BACK AGAIN, to the wild oaks,
But first shed your worldly skin,
With faerie dust sparkles, your eyelids we'll kiss,
To the let the fae back in!
--by Carol Ochs
http://www.wildoaksart.com/
Journey's BeginningsWelcome magic child
of my friend so dear
the Earth is smiling brightly
now that you are here
I wish you many dances
barefoot in morning dew
with laughter and innocent spirit
filled with love so true
may you be delighted
by everything you see
never losing touch with
childhood curiosity
may you talk to the animals
and walk in the light
may you never give up hope
for all your dreams, may you fight
and as you grow to be
wise and strong
may you never stop singing
a youthful song
may the child inside you
never grow old
and all the beauty of Nature
may you always behold
may you giggle with fairies
and converse with the trees
sleep with wishes under stars
on a soft bed of leaves
may you always reflect on the
moon's white light
shining blessings upon you
as you travel through Life
in all you will learn
may you simply believe
and always be able
to look beyond what you see
may you never forget
from where you have come
may your heart be warmed always
by brilliant rays of the sun
may your rainbows lead only
to treasures of love
and discover life's true riches
in all that's to come
along your Path may wildflowers
in every color be lined
and gentle breezes
wave blessings upon you
throughout all of time
you're turning the pages
on a new chapter of life
a fresh book of parchment
upon which you'll write
you're beginning your Journey
and my wish for you
is a life filled with happiness
in all that you do.
By Suzanne "Lily" Jaillet-Isham, June 2005
written for Finley Sebastian Jackson
http://lilyofthevalleyart.com/
La Belle Dame sans Merci
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in lan! guage strange she said -
'I love the true'.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
by John Keats
Little Elfman
I met a little elfman once,
Down where the lilies blow.
I asked him why he was so small,
And why he did't grow.
He slightly frowned, and with his eye
He lookes me through and through-
"Im just as big for me" said he,
"As you are big for you!"
By John Kendrick Bangs
Midsummer Night's Dream
PUCK'S Final Speach
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
William Shakespeare
Mor of Cloyne
Mor of Cloyne, a Munster Princess, is singing at the door of a Fairy rath to her sister, a captive within it, the magic tune by which she once escaped from a like captivity.
Little Sister, whom the Fay
Hides away within his doon,
Deep below yon seeding fern,
Oh, list and learn my magic tune.
Long ago, when snared like thee
By the shee, my harp and I
O'er them wove the slumber spell,
Warbling well its lullaby.
Till with dreamy smiles they sank,
Rank on rank, before the strain;
And I rose from out the rath,
And found my path to earth again.
Little Sister, to my woe
Hid below among the Shee,
List and learn the magic tune,
That it full soon may succour thee.
By Alfred Perceval Graves
Nature, the Gentlest Mother
Nature, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,
Her admonition mild
In forest and the hill
By traveler is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.
How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,--
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down
Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid Prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky
With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Will silence everywhere.
Emily Dickinson
Night Dancers
Their quick feet pattered on the grass
As light as dewdrops fall.
I saw their shadows on the glass
And heard their voices call.
But when I went out hurrying
To join them,they were gone.
I only found a little ring
Of footprints on the lawn.
By Thomas Kennedy
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