THE FOOTSTEP FAIRIES ~Muriel E. Windram The footstep fairies follow you Wherever you may walk, And when you tread the grasses down, They push back every stalk. They never let you see them work, Though you may watch for hours, But hide themselves behind your feet, And in among the flowers. Then, when you’ve gone along your way, They tug with might and main, Till all the little blades of grass Are standing straight again.
Photo by Cicely Mary Barker
THE FAIRY RING ~Constance Andrea Keremes Toss aside your shoes and stockings, Cap and jacket, too, Clothe yourself in moonbeams Buttoned up with mountain dew. Let the fairies take your hands And spirit you away, To a place beyond all time, Where sprite and elf folk play. Frisk about and twist about, Come join the fairy ring, Gambol to the tinny tune That toad and cricket sing. Dip and trip around the circle, Sashay left then right, Frolic with the little people, Dance away the night. And when daybreak comes at last, One beam by sunny beam, You’ll find yourself alone And wondering . . . Was it just a dream?
Photo by Mary Brett
THE FAIRY CHILD ~Lord Dunsanay From the low white walls and the church's steeple, From our little fields under grass or grain, I'm gone away to the fairy people I shall not come to the town again. You may see a girl with my face and tresses, You may see one come to my mother's door Who may speak my words and may wear my dresses. She will not be I, for I come no more. I am gone, gone far, with the fairies roaming, You may ask of me where the herons are In the open marsh when the snipe are homing, Or when no moon lights nor a single star. On stormy nights when the streams are foaming And a hint may come of my haunts afar, With the reeds my floor and my roof the gloaming, But I come no more to Ballynar. Ask Father Ryan to read no verses To call me back, for I am this day From blessings far, and beyond curses. No heaven shines where we ride away. At speed unthought of in all your stables, With the gods of old and the sons of Finn, With the queens that reigned in the olden fables And kings that won what a sword can win. You may hear us streaming above your gables On nights as still as a planet's spin; But never stir from your chairs and tables To call my name. I shall not come in. For I am gone to the fairy people. Make the most of that other child Who prays with you by the village steeple I am gone away to the woods and wild. I am gone away to the open spaces, And whither riding no man may tell; But I shall look upon all your faces No more in Heaven or Earth or Hell.
Photo by Valerie Tabor Smith
THE STOLEN CHILD ~William Butler Yeats Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water-rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berries And of the reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping Than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim grey sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances, Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping Than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping Than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal-chest. For he comes, the human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, From a world more full of weeping Than he can understand.
THE LAST FAIRY ~Terry M McKenna With moonlight eyes She sits and cries Tears falling to an autumn leaf Curled in her wings She sits and sings Winter songs fill the air Because we didn't believe She's the one left to grieve Her comfort is never near So before she moves on Be the first to right our wrong Say - I believe in Fairies
Photo by Mary Baxter St. Claire
CLICK ON THE FAIRY CHILD TO CONTINUE ON YOUR JOURNEY!