COMPOSED FOR MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND, J. M., WHO
WISHED ME TO WRITE “ABOUT FAIRIES.”
I sing of those bright little creatures
Not made of terrestrial mould,
Who play hide and seek in the moonbeams,
On wings all of emerald and gold—
Who pull the red beard of the comet,
And mimic the stars when they wink—
Or watch the old owl to the fountain,
And huddle him over the brink.
But these are the naughty young fairies,
Who won’t take their parents’ advice—
In summer will bathe in the water,
In winter will slide on the ice;
So some of the them perish by drowning,
And some break their legs when they slip;
And some are snapt up by the night-hawk,
And never get out of his grip.
(Peter John Allan)
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