The Fairies

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We darent go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owls feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.

William Allingham

William Allingham was an Irish poet, diarist, and editor, born on March 19, 1824, and died on November 18, 1889. He is best known for his Diary, published posthumously and documenting his interactions with other notable Victorian writers. Allingham's poetry often reflected his Irish heritage and rural upbringing, with famous works such as "The Fairies" which influenced later writers. He served as the sub-editor of Fraser's Magazine and was well-regarded in literary circles for his contributions to poetry and literature.

William Allingham

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English

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The Flight of the Fairies

There's a rustle in the woodlands, and a sighing in the breeze,
For the Little Folk are busy in the bushes and the trees;
They are packing up their treasures, every one with nimble hand,
Ready for the coming journey back to sunny Fairyland.

They have gathered up the jewels from their beds of mossy green,
With all the dewy diamonds that summer morns have seen;
The silver from the lichen and the powdered gold dust, too,
Where the buttercups have flourished and the dandelions grew.

They packed away the birdies' songs, then, lest we should be sad,
They left the Robin's carol out, to make the winter glad;
They packed the fragrance of the flowers, then, lest we should forget,
Out of the pearly scented box they dropped a Violet.

Then o'er a leafy carpet, by the silent ...

Fay Inchfawn

There Are Fairies

Elfins of the Autumn night,
Gather! gather! work's to do:
Th re's the toadstool, plump and white,
To be lifted into view:
And the ghost-flower, like a light,
To be dight,
And washed white with moon and dew;
While the frog,
From the bog,
Watchmans us with"All is right."

Ouphes, come help the spider spin,
Stretch his webs for mist and moon;
Rim with rounded rain, or, thin,
Curve into a frosty lune:
Lift the mushroom's rosy chin,
Help it win
Through the leaves that lie aboon;
While the cricket
In the thicket
Makes its fairy fiddle din.
"Lift the Mushroom's rosy chin."

Brim the lichen-cups with rain;
Blow to feather the goldenrods;
Help the touchmenots, a-strain
To explode their ripened pods,
Sow their patte...

Madison Julius Cawein

The Fairies Dancing

I heard along the early hills,
    Ere yet the lark was risen up,
Ere yet the dawn with firelight fills
    The night-dew of the bramble-cup, -
I heard the fairies in a ring
    Sing as they tripped a lilting round
Soft as the moon on wavering wing.
    The starlight shook as if with sound,
As if with echoing, and the stars
    Prankt their bright eyes with trembling gleams
While red with war the gusty Mars
    Rained upon earth his ruddy beams.
He shone alone, low down the West,
    While I, behind a hawthorn-bush,
Watched on the fairies flaxen-tressed
    The fires of the morning flush.
Till, as a mist, their beauty died,
    Their singing shrill and fainter grew;
And daylight tremulous and wide
    Flooded the moorland through and through;

Walter De La Mare

There Are Fairies

I.

There are fairies, bright of eye,
Who the wildflowers' warders are:
Ouphes that chase the firefly;
Elves that ride the shooting star;
Fays who in a cobweb lie,
Swinging on a moonbeam-bar,
Or who harness bumblebees,
Grumbling on the clover leas,
To a blossom or a breeze,
That's their fairy car.
If you care, you too may see
There are fairies verily
There are fairies.

II.

There are fairies. I could swear
I have seen them busy where
Rose leaves loose their scented hair,
In the moonlight weaving weaving
Out of starshine and the dew
Glinting gown and shimmering shoe;
Or within a glow-worm lair
From the dark earth slowly heaving
Mushrooms whiter than the moon,
On whose tops they sit and croon,
With the...

Madison Julius Cawein

The Fairy Rade.

        I.

Ai me! why stood I on the bent
When Summer wept o'er dying June!
I saw the Fairy Folk ride faint
    Aneath the moon.


        II.

The haw-trees hedged the russet lea
Where cuckoo-buds waxed rich with gold;
The wealthy corn rose yellowly
    Endlong the wold.


        III.

Betwixt the haw-trees and the mead
"The Fairy Rade" came glimmering on;
A creamy cavalcade did speed
    O'er the green lawn.


        IV.

The night was ringing with their reins;
Loud laughed they till the cricket hushed;
The whistles on their coursers' manes
    Shrill music gushed.


        V.

The whistles tagged their horses' manes
All crystal clear; on these a wind
Fore...

Madison Julius Cawein

There Are Faeries

I

There are faeries, bright of eye,
Who the wildflowers' warders are:
Ouphes, that chase the firefly;
Elves, that ride the shooting-star:
Fays, who in a cobweb lie,
Swinging on a moonbeam bar;
Or who harness bumblebees,
Grumbling on the clover leas,
To a blossom or a breeze -
That's their faery car.
If you care, you too may see
There are faeries. - Verily,
There are faeries.

II

There are faeries. I could swear
I have seen them busy, where
Roses loose their scented hair,
In the moonlight weaving, weaving,

Out of starlight and the dew,
Glinting gown and shimmering shoe;
Or, within a glowworm lair,
From the dark earth slowly heaving
Mushrooms whiter than the moon,
On whose tops they sit and croon,

Madison Julius Cawein