They have nothing to do but watch sleepy heads The little Plumpuppets are fairies of beds: ~Alfred Noyes, "A Spell (An Excellent Way to get a Fairy)," The Lord of Misrule and Other Poems, 1915 Livingstone (Herbert Dickinson Ward), Lauriel: The Love Letters of an American Girl, 1901 Am I foolish? Papa would say that I was fey. I know the old Man Rose curled lovingly toward the old lady's beetling nose that she might scent again the spring she had not known for ten thousand centuries. So I took the old man over, and placed him in the old lady's flinty mouth. What does she seek? For whom is her vigil? The spume and the wrack have been her mates - tears have dropped from her eyes in storm and wreck. Half reclining, the old lady looks out to sea with eternal vigilance and patience. Right by the lighthouse is the strong profile of an old woman, cut by the master surf in the red granite ledge. He wanted to say something, and I put him to my lips and kissed him because he seemed so lonely and so old. He was at the top of the oldest, tallest rosebush on the Cape. Yesterday, I saw an old, old man at a distance. I never outlived their reality, and I still see people in the roses, and forms in the groves and rocks just as other persons do in the clouds. They were my own fairies, and would come when I called. I was brought up on fairies, not the kind you read of in Hans Andersen but real kobolds of the rocks and pixies of the wood. Baird, fairy curse words in "The Theft of Thistledown: A Faery Interlude," 1915 here are the fairies skipping and dancing around to the music of the blue-bells. Or bounced themselves upon enormous drops of dew. ~Douglas Jerrold, "Our Honeymoon: An Apology and An Explanation," in Punch, Vol xxiv, 1853Īnd all about, among the blossoms, fairies flew We might live with the angels that visit us on every sunbeam, and sit with the fairies who wait on every flower. If we opened our minds to enjoyment, we might find tranquil pleasures spread about us on every side. We are satisfied with the matter of fact, and look not for the spirit of fact which is above it. There is, indeed, much in nature that we do not yet half enjoy, because we shut our avenues of sensation and feeling. ~Author unknownĪny man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind. Cawein (1865–1914), "Gramarye"Ī rustle in the wind reminds us a fairy is near. When night beheld them drinking, chin to chin, Spilled on the cloth where Elf-land sat to dine, The hollow stump, are stains of Faëry wine The tree's crook'd roots, or stretch, white-wov'n, within The smears of silver on the webs that line ~Harry Behn (1898–1973), The House Beyond the Meadow, 1955 Towered above us high beyond the moon and sun. Of starry rivers joined and flowed away as one,Īnd their enchanted castle made of dew and dreams Their Majesties and I sat where two streams ~Charles de Lint, Moonlight & Vines, 1999 No child but must remember laying his head in the grass, staring into the infinitesimal forest, and seeing it grow populous with fairy armies. Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue Īnd she is still there, busied with a dance,Ī lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet. Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Spread your wings and let the fairy in you fly! ~Author unknown ~William Butler Yeats, "The Land of Heart's Desire," 1894 S EE A LSO: FAIRY TALES, ANGELS, STORYTELLING, CHILDHOOD, INNER CHILDįaeries, come, take me out of this dull world,Īnd dance upon the mountains like a flame!
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