Archive | Poetry RSS feed for this section

Rose Fyleman, Faerie Queen Extraordinaire

27 Dec

Thanks to my lovely friend, MaddWitch, I have discovered the wonderful poetry of Englishwoman Rose Fyleman, 1877-1857. These are absolutely charming and delightful; thanks, Maddwitch!

Fairies

THERE are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
It’s not so very, very far away;
You pass the gardner’s shed and you just keep straight ahead —
I do so hope they’ve really come to stay.
There’s a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,
And a little stream that quietly runs through;
You wouldn’t think they’d dare to come merrymaking there–

Well, they do.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
They often have a dance on summer nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze,
And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan,
And dance away up there in the middle of the air?

Well, they can.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very handsome;
The Queen–now you can quess who that could be
(She’s a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)?

Well — it’s Me!pinkfairyinthegarden

Yesterday in Oxford Street

YESTERDAY in Oxford Street, oh, what d’you think, my dears?
I had the most exciting time I’ve had for years and years;
The buildings looked so straight and tall, the sky was blue between,
And, riding on a motor-bus, I saw the fairy queen!

Sitting there upon the rail and bobbing up and down,
The sun was shining on her wings and on her golden crown;
And looking at the shops she was, the pretty silks and lace-
She seemed to think that Oxford Street was quite a lovely place.

And once she turned and looked at me, and waved her little hand;
But I could only stare and stare, oh, would she understand?
I simply couldn’t speak at all, I simply couldn’t stir,
And all the rest of Oxford Street was just a shining blur.

Then suddenly she shook her wings–a bird had fluttered by–
And down into the street she looked and up into the sky;
And perching on the railing on a tiny fairy toe,
She flashed away so quickly that I hardly saw her go.

I never saw her any more, altho’ I looked all day;
Perhaps she only came to peep, and never meant to stay;
But oh, my dears, just think of it, just think what luck for me,
That she should come to Oxford Street, and I be there to see!

thefaerieinthegarden

A Fairy Went A-Marketing

A FAIRY went a-marketing
She bought a little fish;
She put it in a crystal bowl
Upon a golden dish.
An hour she sat in wonderment
And watched its silver gleam,
And then she gently took it up
And slipped it in a stream.

A fairy went a-marketing
She bought a coloured bird;
It sang the sweetest, shrillest song
That ever she had heard.
She sat beside its painted cage
And listened half the day,
And then she opened wide the door
And let it fly away.

A fairy went a-marketing
She bought a winter gown
All stitched about with gossamer
And lined with thistledown.
She wore it all the afternoon
With prancing and delight,
Then gave it to a little frog
To keep him warm at night.

A fairy went a-marketing
She bought a gentle mouse
To take her tiny messages,
To keep her tiny house.
All day she kept its busy feet
Pit-patting to and fro,
And then she kissed its silken ears,
Thanked it, and let it go.

purplemoonphase

The following were originally posted by the lovely and thoughtful Maddwitch on her MySpace blog.  She said “I found these & added the pictures to share with you my friends, & to lift my spirits.”

Photobucket

Faeries and Chimneys

You know the smoke from chimneys–
It often isn’t smoke.
It’s nothing but the fairies
Having such a joke.

Round they fly and round about,
Higher still and higher
“Dearie me,” the people say,
“A chimney on fire!”

You know the noise the wind makes
At night-time now and then–
It’s just those naughty fairies
At their tricks again–

Sitting in the chimney
Round and round in rows,
Singing all together
And warming up their toes.

gothic arsc
I Stood Against the Window

I stood against the window
And looked between the bars,
And there were strings of fairies
Hanging from the stars;

Everywhere and everywhere
In shining, swinging chains;
The air was full of shimmering,
Like sunlight when it rains.

They kept on swinging, swinging,
They flung themselves so high
They caught upon the pointed moon
And hung across the sky.

And when I woke next morning,
There still were crowds and crowds
In beautiful bright bunches
All sleeping on the clouds.

Photobucket

The Water Lily Pond by Margaret Tarrant Pictures, Images and Photos

The Fairies [Have Never a Penny to Spend]

The fairies have never a penny to spend,
They haven’t a thing put by,
But theirs is the dower of bird and flower
And theirs is the earth and sky.

And though you should live in a palace of gold
Or sleep in a dried up ditch,
You could never be as poor as the fairies are,
And never be as rich.

Since ever and ever the world began
They danced like a ribbon of flame,
They have sung their song through the centuries long,
And yet it is never the same.

And though you be foolish or though you be wise,
With hair of silver or gold,
You can never be as young as the fairies are,
And never be as old.

The Fairy Flute

My brother has a little flute
Of gold and ivory,
He found it on a summer night
Within a hollow tree.

He plays it every morning
And every afternoon,
And all the little singing-birds
Listen to the tune.

He plays it in the meadows,
And everywhere he walks
The flowers start a-nodding
And dancing on their stalks.

He plays it in the village,
And all along the street
The people stop to listen,
The music is so sweet.

And none but he can play it
And none can understand,
Because it is a fairy flute
And comes from Fairyland.

Rose Garden Fairy Pictures, Images and Photos

Thank you, Maddwitch!

If You See A Faery Ring

23 Nov

If you see a faery ring
In a field of grass,
Very lightly step around,
Tip-toe as you pass,
Last night faeries frolicked there
And they’re sleeping somewhere near.
If you see a tiny faery,
Lying fast asleep
Shut your eyes
And run away,
Do not stay to peek!
Do not tell
Or you’ll break a faery spell.

~Shakespeare~

Autumn Faerie

19 Nov

Faery Realm

Listen close to the whispers
on the autumn winds…
for they tell of the secret
passage to the faery realm.

Through twining vines
and tangled trees, a hidden
path leads to an enchanted
place, rich and strange.

~Author Unknown~

The Gate to the Land of Faeries

7 Nov

Last night I dreamed that I had seen
The gates to the land of faerie
But I held back and entered not
Because I was too wary.
I wonder how it could have been
If I had seen that place
To walk among the little folk
And meet them face to face.
I could have seen the faerie Queen
Her court and all the rest
But just to enter through the gates
I could not pass the test.
Next time I’ll gather up my strength
And boldly enter in
And once inside I just might stay
And come here not again.

~by J. Browne

I’d Love To Be A Fairy’s Child

7 Nov

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 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.

 

~Robert Graves~
1895-1985

The Faerie Child

7 Nov

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.

 

~Lord Dunsanay~
1878-1957

%d bloggers like this: