I'd Love To Be a Fairy's Child
The Queen of the Fay~ Queen Mab~ Fairy Song
The Fountain of the Fairies~ The Fairy Musicians
Flower Fairies~ Where to Find Fairies
The Ruin~ Over Hill, Over Dale
Page 2~Page 3~Page 4~Page 5
I'd love to be a Fairy's Child
by Robert Graves
Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their heart's desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep
Two strong 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.
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The Queen of the Fay
by Jane Yolen
Four and forty are the braids
That twine aobut her head.
Four and forty are the maids
That wait upon her bed.
Four and forty are the bells
Upon her horse's bridle,
Four and forty are the jewels
Upon its leather saddle.
Four and forty are the babes
That she has stole away,
And countless are the princes' hearts
That she did break today.
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Queen Mab
by Ben Jonson
This is Mab, the mistress of Fairy,
That doth mightly rob the dairy,
And can help or hurt the churning,
As she please without discerning.
She that pinches country wenches,
If the rub not clean their benches,
And with sharper nails remembers
When they rake up not their embers:
But if so they chance to feast her,
In a shoe she drops a tester.
This is she that empties cradles,
Takes out children, puts in ladles:
Trains forth midwives in their slumber,
With a sieve the holes to number;
And then leads them from her burrows,
Home though ponds and water-furrows.
She can start our Franklin's daughters,
In their sleep, with shrieks and laughters;
And on sweet St. Anna's night,
Feed them with a promised sight,
Some of husbands, some of lovers,
Which an empty dream discovers.
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Fairy Song
by Sir Walter Scott
What I am I must not show -
What I am thou couldst not know -
Something betwixt heaven and hell -
Something that neither stood not fell -
Something that through thy wit or will
May work thee good - may work thee ill.
Neither substance quite, nor shadow,
Haunting lonely moor and meadow,
Dancing by the haunted spring,
Riding on the whirlwind's wing;
Aspring in fantastic fashion
Every change of human passion,
While o'er our frozen minds they pass,
Like shadows from the mirror'd glass.
Wayward, fickle, is our mood,
Hovering betwixt bad and good,
Happier than brief-dated man,
Living ten times o'er his span;
Far less happy, for we have
Help nor hope beyond the grave!
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The Fountain of the Fairies
by Robert Southey
There is a fountain in the forest call'd
The Fountain of the Faires: when a child
With a delightful wonder I have heard
Tales of the elfin tribe who on its banks
Hold midnight revelry. An ancient oak,
The goodliest of the forest, grows beside;
Alone it stands, upon a green grass plat,
By the woods bounded like some little isle.
It ever hath been deem'd their favourite tree,
They love to lie and rock upon its leaves,
And bask in moonshine. Here the woodman leads
His boy, and showing him the green-sward mark'd
With darker circlets, says the midnight dance
Hath traced the rings, and bids him spare the tree.
Fancy had cast a spell upon the place
Which made it holy and the villagers
Would say that never evil thing approcah'd
Unpunish'd there. The strange and fearful pleasure
Which fill'd me by that solitary spring.
Ceased not in riper years; and now it wakes
Deeper delight, and more mysterious awe.
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The Fairy Musicians
by William Browne
The treble was a three-mouthed grasshopper,
Well-tutored by a skillful chorister:
An ancient master, that did use to play
The friskings which the lambs do dance in May.
And long time was the chiefest called to sing,
When on the plains the fairies made a ring;
Then a field-cricket, with a note full clean,
Sweet and unforced and softly sung the mean,
To whose accord, and with no mickle labour,
A pretty fairy played upon a tabor:
The case was of a hazel-nut, the heads
A bat's wing dressed, the snares were silver threads;
A little stiffened lamprey's skin did suit
All the rest well, and served them for a flute;
And to all these a deep well-breasted gnat,
That had good sides, knew well his sharp and flat,
Sung a good compass, making no wry face, -
Was there as fittest for a chamber-bass.
These choice musicians to their merry king
Gave all the pleasures which their art could bring.
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Flower Fairies
by Philip Bourke Marston
Flower fairies - have you found them,
When the summer's dusk is falling,
With the glow-worms watching round them;
Have you heard them softly calling?
Silent stand they through the moonlight,
In their flower shapes, fair and quiet;
But they hie them forth by moonlight
Ready then to sing and riot.
I have heard them; I have seen them, -
Light from their bright petals raying;
And the trees bent down to screen them,
Great, wise trees, too old for playing.
Hundreds of them, all together, -
Flashing flocks of flying fairies,
Crowding throught the summer weather,
Seeking where the coolest air is.
And they tell the trees that know them,
As upon their boughs they hover,
Of the things that chance below them, -
How the rose has a new lover.
And the gay Rose laughs, protesting,
"Neighbor Lily is fickle."
Then they search where birds are nesting,
And their feathers softly tickle.
Then away they all dance, sweeping,
Having drunk their fill of gladness.
But the trees, their night-watch keeping,
Thrill with tender, pitying sadness;
For they know of bleak December,
When each bough left cold and bare is,
When they only shall remember
The bright visits of the fairies, -
When the roses and the lilies
Shall be gone, to come back never
From the land where all so still is
That they sleep and sleep for ever.
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Where to Find Fairies
by Jane Yolen
Up and down the mossy glens,
Through the greeny bowers,
Hiding under inky caps,
Safe from evening showers;
Dancing through the hedgerows,
Napping in an oak,
Singing through the fresh rye grass -
That's where you'll find the Folk.
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The Ruin
by Walter de la Mare
When the last colours of the day
Have from their burning ebbed away,
About that ruin, cold and lone,
The cricket shrills from stone to stone;
And scattering o'er its darkened green,
Bands of the fairies may be seen,
Chattering like grasshoppers, their feet
Dancing a thistledown dance round it:
While the great gold of the mild moon
Tinges their tiny acorn shoon.
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Over Hill, Over Dale
by William Shakespeare
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire:
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moones sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
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Hafapea's Universe
BACK~*~ HOME~*~ NEXT
Fae Magic
My Adopted Fair Folk
Plant a Faery Garden
Faery Trees
Teas to Aid in Astral Travel
Incense to Facilitate Faery Contact
Protective Talismans for Astral Travel
Celtic Gods, Goddesses, Kings and Queens
Faery Links and Rings
This set was made by SwtMelode
using the Fairy art of Myrea of Fairies World©
