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diff --git a/59726-0.txt b/59726-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b86cd20 --- /dev/null +++ b/59726-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1072 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59726 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + Fairies and Chimneys + The Fairy Flute + The Rainbow Cat, and Other Stories + + + + + THE FAIRY GREEN + + + BY + + ROSE FYLEMAN + + AUTHOR OF "FAIRIES AND CHIMNEYS" + + + + SEVENTH EDITION + + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + + + + First Published ... October 23rd 1919 + Second Edition ... December 1919 + Third Edition ... November 1920 + Fourth Edition ... May 1921 + Fifth (School) Edition ... October 1921 + Sixth Edition ... December 1921 + Seventh Edition ... October 1922 + + + + + TO ALL TEACHERS OF LITTLE CHILDREN + IN GENERAL AND ONE IN PARTICULAR + + + + + CONTENTS + + + FAIRIES + + Vision + Please + The Daphne Bush + Alms in Autumn + Fairy Music + The Hayfield + This Island + Smith Square, Westminster + The Enchanted Princess + The Goblin to the Fairy Queen + The Fairy Queen to the Goblin + Fairies in Autumn + Trees and Fairies + Fairies in the Malverns + The Fairies send Messengers + Dunsley Glen + + + BIRD-LORE + + Peacocks + The Cuckoo + The Rooks + The Robin + The Cock + The Grouse + + + A LITTLE GIRL + + Before + Singing-Time + There are no Wolves in England now + Mrs. Brown + The Spring + Cousin Gwen + The Butcher + The Pillar-Box + The Dentist + Joys + My Policeman + The Porridge Plate + The Fairy Green + The Visit + + + ENVOI + + To the Fairies + + + + + THE FAIRY GREEN + + + FAIRIES + + VISION + + I've seen her, I've seen her + Beneath an apple-tree; + The minute that I saw her there + With stars and dewdrops in her hair + I knew it must be she. + She's sitting on a dragon-fly + All shining green and gold; + The dragon-fly goes circling round + A little way above the ground-- + She isn't taking hold. + + I've seen her, I've seen her, + I never, never knew + That anything could be so sweet; + She has the tiniest hands and feet, + Her wings are very blue. + She holds her little head like _this_ + Because she is a queen; + (I can't describe it all in words) + She's throwing kisses to the birds + And laughing in between. + + I've seen her, I've seen her-- + I simply ran and ran; + Put down your sewing quickly, please, + Let's hurry to the orchard trees + As softly as we can. + I had to go and leave her there, + I felt I couldn't stay, + I wanted you to see her too-- + But oh, whatever shall we do + If she has flown away? + + + + + PLEASE + + Please be careful where you tread, + The fairies are about; + Last night, when I had gone to bed, + I heard them creeping out. + And wouldn't it be a dreadful thing + To do a fairy harm? + To crush a little delicate wing + Or bruise a tiny arm? + They're all about the place, I know, + So do be careful where you go. + + Please be careful what you say, + They're often very near, + And though they turn their heads away + They cannot help but hear. + And think how terribly you would mind + If, even for a joke, + You said a thing that seemed unkind + To the dear little fairy folk. + I'm sure they're simply everywhere, + So _promise_ me that you'll take care. + + + + + THE DAPHNE BUSH + + All about the daphne bush the happy fairies went, + And spread abroad their silken hair to catch its magic scent; + They chanted little silver tunes, they danced the whole day long; + The rosy bush was ringed around with chains of coloured song. + + They danced, they sang, they flung about their tiny fairy names, + Till swiftly over all the sky there ran the sunset flames; + Then high into the glowing air they leapt with joyful shout, + And with the ruddy shreds of mist they wrapped themselves about. + + Into my quiet garden close they swiftly dropped again + (The music of their merriment tinkled like falling rain); + Laughing they swayed, while from their hair they shook the + warm perfume, + Till all the place seemed filled with clouds of drifting + daphne bloom. + + + + + ALMS IN AUTUMN + + Spindle-wood, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray, + A little flaming lantern to guide me on my way? + The fairies all have vanished from the meadow and the glen + And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again. + Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light + To find the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night. + + Ash-tree, ash-tree, throw me, if you please, + Throw me down a slender bunch of russet-gold keys. + I fear the gates of Fairyland may all be shut so fast + That nothing but your magic keys will ever take me past. + I'll tie them to my girdle, and as I go along + My heart will find a comfort in the tinkle of their song. + + Holly-bush, holly-bush, help me in my task, + A pocketful of berries is all the alms I ask: + A pocketful of berries to thread in glowing strands + (I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands) + So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright + They'll set the realms of Fairyland all dancing with delight. + + + + + FAIRY MUSIC + + When the fiddlers play their tunes you may sometimes hear, + Very softly chiming in, magically clear, + Magically high and sweet, the tiny crystal notes + Of fairy voices bubbling free from tiny fairy throats. + + When the birds at break of day chant their morning prayers, + Or on sunny afternoons pipe ecstatic airs, + Comes an added rush of sound to the silver din-- + Songs of fairy troubadours gaily joining in. + + When athwart the drowsy fields summer twilight falls, + Through the tranquil air there float elfin madrigals + And in wild November nights, on the winds astride, + Fairy hosts go rushing by, singing as they ride. + + Every dream that mortals dream, sleeping or awake, + Every lovely fragile hope--these the fairies take, + Delicately fashion them and give them back again + In tender, limpid melodies that charm the hearts of men. + + + + + THE HAYFIELD + + Over the field the fairies went + Singing and dancing and well content; + Over the field of sweet warm grass + I saw their shimmering cohorts pass. + + The clover flamed to a ruddier glow, + The slender buttercups curtseyed low, + The wondering daisies, innocent-eyed, + Bowed their heads to the radiant tide. + + And flirting butterflies, pearly white, + Left the flowers for a new delight, + Left their loves for the fairies' sake, + And fluttered dizzily in their wake. + + Over the swaying grass they swept, + Over the hedgerow soared and leapt, + Broke and scattered in golden spray, + Gleamed and glittered--and melted away. + + + + + THE ISLAND + + I know an island in a lake, + Green upon waters grey; + It has a strange enchanted air; + I hear the fairies singing there + When I go by that way. + + They guard their hidden dwelling-place + With bands of stalwart reeds, + But sometimes, by a happy chance, + I see them all come out and dance + Upon the water-weeds. + + One night, one summer night, I know + Suddenly I shall wake, + And very softly hasten down + And out beyond the sleeping town + To find my fairy lake. + + I shall not need to seek a boat, + It will be moored, I think, + Within a tiny pebbled bay + Where meadow-sweet and mallow sway + Close to the water's brink. + + The moon from shore to shadowy shore + Will make a shining trail, + And I shall sing their fairy song + As joyfully I float along-- + I shall not need a sail. + + And peering through a starlit haze + I presently shall see, + Where swift the waiting reeds unclose, + The fairies all in rows and rows + Waiting to welcome me. + + + + + SMITH SQUARE, WESTMINSTER + + In Smith Square, Westminster, the houses stand so prim, + With slender railings at their feet and windows straight and slim; + And all day long they staidly stare with gentle placid gaze, + And dream of joyous happenings in splendid bygone days. + + In Smith Square, Westminster, you must not make a noise, + No shrill-voiced vendors harbour there, no shouting errand-boys; + But very busy gentlemen step swiftly out and in + With little leather cases and umbrellas neatly thin. + + Yet sometimes when the summer night her starry curtain spreads, + And all the busy gentlemen are sleeping in their beds, + You hear a gentle humming like the humming of a hive, + And Smith Square, Westminster, begins to come alive. + + For all the houses start to sing, honey-sweet and low, + The tender little lovely songs of long and long ago, + And all the fairies round about come hastening up in crowds, + Until the quiet air is filled with rainbow-coloured clouds. + + On roof and rail and chimney-pot they delicately perch, + They hang like jewelled fringes on the ledges of the church; + They dance about the roadway upon nimble, noiseless feet, + While the houses keep on chanting with a soft enticing beat. + + And still they weave their sparkling webs and still they + leap and whirl + Until the far horizon's edge is faintly rimmed with pearl, + And the morning breeze blows out the stars discreetly, one by one, + And the sentries on the Abbey signal down--"The Sun--the Sun!" + + And long before the butlers stumble drowsily downstairs, + And long before their masters have begun to say their prayers, + The fairies all have pranced away upon the morning beams, + And Smith Square, Westminster, is wrapped once more in dreams. + + + + + THE ENCHANTED PRINCESS + + She wanders in the forest with wide and solemn eyes; + A little shade of wilderment across her forehead lies. + + No timid woodland creature her footfall need affright, + The shadow of her floating hair is not more soft and light. + + She hears the gentle cadence of bird and wind and stream, + They make a little song for her, like singing in a dream. + + Across the distant valley the pleasant sunbeams fall; + The children in the cowslip field merrily laugh and call. + + She does not hear their laughter, she does not feel the sun, + She cannot leave the shadowed wood until the spell is done. + + + + + THE GOBLIN TO THE FAIRY QUEEN + + What do you lack, queen, queen, + That is precious and fine and rare? + A jewelled snood that shall lie between + The delicate waves of your hair? + I will ride through the sky on the evening wind + With a golden needle and thread, + And string up the tiniest stars I can find, + To glitter about your head. + + What can I do, queen, queen, + To hasten the hours along + When you grow weary of woodland green, + Weary of woodland song? + A cage of gossamer gold I will tie + On to a skylark's wing, + And there you shall hang in the midst of the sky + And tremble to hear him sing. + + Grant me a boon, queen, queen; + This is the boon that I ask-- + Let me do service, mighty or mean, + Give me a task, a task. + Are there no jackanapes giants to slay? + Are there no dragons to fight? + Nothing shall daunt me by dark or by day; + Make me your goblin knight! + + + + + THE FAIRY QUEEN TO THE GOBLIN + + Last night I heard a singing--a singing in my dreams, + It wandered through my land of sleep like little silver streams; + Like little purling silver streams that gently laugh and coo-- + Goblin with the shining eyes, goblin, was it you? + + Softer than the tender croon of my happy doves, + Sweeter than my nightingales pouring forth their loves, + Clearer than my valiant lark triumphant in the blue; + Goblin with the whimsic smile, goblin, was it you? + + All night long the singer stayed close beside my bower, + Weaving his enchanted songs, till that magic hour + When the early morning light creeps across the dew; + Goblin with the steadfast heart, goblin, was it you? + + + + + FAIRIES IN AUTUMN + + You perch upon the leaves where the trees are very high, + And you all shout together as the wind goes by; + The merry mad wind sets the leaves all afloat, + And off you go a-sailing in an airy wee boat. + + You fly to the edges of a grim grey cloud, + And you all start a-dancing and a-singing very loud; + The cloud melts away in a shower of peevish rain + And you slide down from heaven on a slim silver chain. + + + + + TREES AND FAIRIES + + The larch-tree gives them needles + To stitch their gossamer things; + Carefully, cunningly toils the oak + To shape the cups of the fairy folk; + The sycamore gives them wings. + + The lordly fir-tree rocks them + High on his swinging sails; + The hawthorn fashions their tiny spears; + The whispering alder charms their ears + With soft, mysterious tales. + + The chestnut gives them candles + To make their ballroom fine; + And the elder-bush and the hazel tree + Assist their delicate revelry + With nuts and fragrant wine. + + + + + FAIRIES IN THE MALVERNS + + As I walked over Hollybush Hill + The sun was low and the winds were still, + And never a whispering branch I heard + Nor ever the tiniest call of a bird. + + And when I came to the topmost height + Oh, but I saw such a wonderful sight: + All about on the hill-crest there + The fairies danced in the golden air. + + Danced and frolicked with never a sound + In and out in a magical round; + Wide and wider the circle grew + Then suddenly melted into the blue. + + * * * * * * * + + As I walked down into Eastnor Vale + The stars already were twinkling pale, + And over the spaces of dew-white grass + I saw a marvellous pageant pass. + + Tiny riders on tiny steeds, + Decked with blossoms and armed with reeds, + With gossamer banners floating far + And a radiant queen in an ivory car. + + The beeches spread their petticoats wide + And curtseyed low upon either side; + The rabbits scurried across the glade + To peep at the glittering cavalcade. + + Far and farther I saw them go + And vanish into the woods below; + Then over the shadowy woodland ways + I wandered home in a sweet amaze. + + * * * * * * * + + But Malvern people need fear no ill + Since fairies bide in their country still. + + + + + THE FAIRIES SEND MESSENGERS + + They sent a stout little red-breast bird; + He sang from the garden wall; + Surely, oh, surely the children heard, + But never they came to his call. + + They sent a capering, glad young breeze; + He shouted, he rattled about; + But the children sat with their books on their knees + And gave no heed to his shout. + + They sent a bee in a velvet coat, + Busily, busily gay; + He hummed his tale on a spirited note + But the children chased him away. + + They sent a brave little fairy sprite; + She peeped round the window frame; + The children looked, and their eyes grew bright, + And they came! + + + + + DUNSLEY GLEN + + There is no road to Dunsley Glen, + I should not know the way again + Because the fairies took me there, + Down by a little rocky stair-- + A little stair all twists and turns, + Half hidden by the spreading ferns. + + High overhead the trees were green, + With little bits of blue between, + So high that they could see, I'm sure, + Beyond the wood, beyond the moor, + The water many miles away + Mistily shining in the bay. + + Deep in the glen a streamlet cool + Ran down into a magic pool, + With mossy caverns all about + Where fairies fluttered in and out; + Their sparkling wings and golden hair + Made dancing twinkles here and there. + + I stood and watched them at their play + Until I dared no longer stay; + I knew that I might seek and seek + On every day of every week + Ere I should find the place again-- + There is no road to Dunsley Glen. + + + + + BIRD-LORE + + PEACOCKS + + Peacocks sweep the fairies' rooms; + They use their folded tails for brooms; + But fairy dust is brighter far + Than any mortal colours are, + And all about their tails it clings + In strange designs of rounds and rings: + And that is why they strut about + And proudly spread their feathers out. + + + + + THE CUCKOO + + The Cuckoo is a tell-tale, + A mischief-making bird; + He flies to East, he flies to West + And whispers into every nest + The wicked things he's heard; + He loves to spread his naughty lies, + He laughs about it as he flies: + "Cuckoo," he cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo, + It's true, it's true." + + And when the fairies catch him + His busy wings they dock, + They shut him up for evermore + (He may not go beyond the door) + Inside a wooden clock; + Inside a wooden clock he cowers + And has to tell the proper hours-- + "Cuckoo," he cries, "cuckoo, cuckoo, + It's true, it's true." + + + + + THE ROOKS + + High in the elm-trees sit the rooks, + Or flit about with busy looks + And solemn, ceaseless caws. + Small wonder they are so intent, + They are the fairies' Parliament-- + They make the fairy laws. + + They never seem to stop all day, + And you can hear from far away + Their busy chatter-chat. + They work so very hard indeed + You'd wonder that the fairies need + So many laws as that. + + + + + THE ROBIN + + The robin is the fairies' page; + They keep him neatly dressed + For country service or for town + In dapper livery of brown + And little scarlet vest. + + On busy errands all day long + He hurries to and fro + With watchful eyes and nimble wings-- + There are not very many things + The robin doesn't know. + + And he can tell you, if he will, + The latest fairy news: + The quaint adventures of the King, + And whom the Queen is visiting, + And where she gets her shoes. + + And lately, when the fairy Court + Invited me to tea, + He stood behind the Royal Chair; + And here I solemnly declare, + When he discovered I was there. + That robin _winked_ at me. + + + + + THE COCK + + The kindly cock is the fairies' friend, + He warns them when their revels must end; + He never forgets to give the word, + For the cock is a thoroughly punctual bird. + + And since he grieves that he never can fly. + Like all the other birds, up in the sky, + The fairies put him now and again + High on a church for a weather-vane. + + Little for sun or for rain he cares; + He turns about with the proudest airs + And chuckles with joy as the clouds go past + To think he is up in the sky at last. + + + + + THE GROUSE + + The Grouse that lives on the moorland wide + Is filled with a most ridiculous pride; + He thinks that it all belongs to him, + And every one else must obey his whim. + When the queer wee folk who live on the moors + Come joyfully leaping out of their doors + To frisk about on the warm sweet heather + Laughing and chattering all together, + He looks askance at their rollicking play + And calls to them in the angriest way: + "You're a feather-brained, foolish, frivolous pack, + Go back, you rascally imps, go back!" + + But little enough they heed his shout, + Over the rocks they tumble about; + They chase each other over the ling; + They kick their heels in the heather and sing: + "Oho, Mr. Grouse, you'd best beware, + Or some fine day, if you don't take care, + The witch who lives in the big brown bog + With a wise old weasel, a rat and a frog, + Will come a-capering over the fell + And put you under a horrible spell; + Your feathers will moult and your voice will crack-- + Go back, you silly old bird, go back!" + + + + + A LITTLE GIRL + + BEFORE + + Before I was a little girl I was a little bird, + I could not laugh, I could not dance, I could not speak a word; + But all about the woods I went and up into the sky-- + And isn't it a pity I've forgotten how to fly? + + I often came to visit you. I used to sit and sing + Upon our purple lilac-bush that smells so sweet in Spring; + But when you thanked me for my song of course you never knew + I soon should be a little girl and come to live with you. + + + + + SINGING-TIME + + I wake in the morning early + And always, the very first thing, + I poke out my head and I sit up in bed + And I sing and I sing and I sing. + + + + + THERE ARE NO WOLVES IN ENGLAND NOW + + There are no wolves in England now, nor any grizzly bears; + You could not meet them after dark upon the attic stairs. + + When Nanna goes to fetch the tea there is no need at all + To leave the nursery door ajar in case you want to call. + + And mother says, in fairy tales, those bits are never true + That tell you all the dreadful deeds that wicked fairies do. + + And wouldn't it be silly for a great big girl like me + To be the leastest bit afraid of things that couldn't be? + + + + + MRS. BROWN + + As soon as I'm in bed at night + And snugly settled down, + The little girl I am by day + Goes very suddenly away, + And then I'm Mrs. Brown. + + I have a family of six, + And all of them have names, + The girls are Joyce and Nancy Maud, + The boys are Marmaduke and Claude + And Percival and James. + + We have a house with twenty rooms + A mile away from town; + I think it's good for girls and boys + To be allowed to make a noise-- + And so does Mr. Brown. + + We do the most exciting things, + Enough to make you creep; + And on and on and on we go-- + I sometimes wonder if I know + When I have gone to sleep. + + + + + THE SPRING + + A little mountain spring I found + That fell into a pool; + I made my hands into a cup + And caught the sparkling water up-- + It tasted fresh and cool. + + A solemn little frog I spied + Upon the rocky brim; + He looked so boldly in my face, + I'm certain that he thought the place + Belonged by rights to him. + + + + + COUSIN GWEN + + I like my cousin very much + Because of course one should; + She comes to spend the day with me + And stays to dinner and to tea, + And she is very good. + + Her shining hair is smooth and neat, + She always wears a plait, + And French Translation she can do + And Algebra and Science too, + And clever things like that. + + My Nanna thinks I ought to try + And copy Cousin Gwen; + But I could never be like her, + Indeed, indeed, I wish I were-- + Excepting now and then. + + + + + THE BUTCHER + + The butcher's shop is open wide + And everyone can see inside; + He stands behind the rows of meat + And gazes out into the street. + + He always wears a coat of blue, + He has a linen apron too, + And with his knife he rather looks + Like ogres in the story-books. + + He smiles and nods and says "Good-day" + If nurse and I go by that way + When we are shopping in the town-- + I've never seen him sitting down. + + + + + THE PILLAR-BOX + + The pillar-box is fat and red, + It's mouth is very wide, + It wears a Tammy on its head-- + It must be dark inside. + + And really it's the greatest fun + When mother lets me stop + And post the letters one by one-- + I like to hear them drop. + + + + + THE DENTIST + + I'd like to be a dentist with a plate upon the door + And a little bubbling fountain in the middle of the floor; + With lots of tiny bottles all arranged in coloured rows + And a page-boy with a line of silver buttons down his clothes. + + I'd love to polish up the things and put them every day + Inside the darling chests of drawers all tidily away; + And every Sunday afternoon when nobody was there + I should go riding up and down upon the velvet chair. + + + + + JOYS + + I'm rather fond of medicine, especially if it's pink, + Or else the fizzy-wizzy kind that makes you want to blink; + And eucalyptus lozenges are very nice I think. + + I like it when I'm really ill and have to stay in bed + With mother's grown-up pillows all frilly round my head; + But measles is the funniest, because you get so red. + + + + + MY POLICEMAN + + He is always standing there + At the corner of the Square; + He is very big and fine + And his silver buttons shine. + + All the carts and taxis do + Everything he tells them to, + And the little errand-boys + When they pass him make no noise. + + Though I seem so very small + I am not afraid at all; + He and I are friends, you see, + And he always smiles at me. + + Once I wasn't very good + Rather near to where he stood, + But he never said a word + Though I'm sure he must have heard. + + Nurse has a policeman too + (Hers has brown eyes, mine has blue), + Hers is sometimes on a horse, + But I like mine best of course. + + + + + THE PORRIDGE PLATE + + My porridge plate at Grannie's house is white and misty blue, + And as I eat the porridge up the picture all comes through; + There is a castle on a lake, a tall tall lady too. + + The castle has a flight of steps and lots of pointed towers, + A garden and a summer-house a little bit like ours, + And trees with leaves like feathers and the most enormous flowers. + + I don't care much for porridge in an ordinary way + (Though it's jolly when there's treacle and your Nanna + lets you play), + But when I stop at Grannie's house I like it every day. + + + + + THE FAIRY GREEN + + Upon the magic green I stood + Within the fairy ling, + Close to the little rustling wood + Where fairies always sing. + + I was a little bit afraid, + I kept my eyes shut tight, + While all around they danced and played-- + I felt the shining light. + + Nearer and nearer still they came, + They touched my dress, my hair; + They called me softly by my name; + I heard them everywhere. + + I never moved, I never spoke + (Oh, but my heart beat fast), + And so the little fairy folk + All went away at last, + + To-morrow I shall go again + And seek the magic place, + I shall not be so foolish then, + I shall not hide my face. + + But I shall stay for hours and hours + Until the daylight ends, + And we shall dance among the flowers + And be the greatest friends. + + And I shall learn their fairy song; + And when I come away + Shall dream of it the whole night long + And sing it every day. + + + + + THE VISIT + + When I went to Fairyland, visiting the Queen, + I rode upon a peacock, blue and gold and green; + Silver was the harness, crimson were the reins, + All hung about with little bells that swung on silken chains. + + When I went to Fairyland, indeed you cannot think + What pretty things I had to eat, what pretty things to drink. + And did you know that butterflies could sing like little birds? + And did you guess that fairy-talk is not a bit like words? + + When I went to Fairyland--of all the lovely things!-- + They really taught me how to fly, they gave me fairy wings; + And every night I listen for a tapping on the pane-- + I want so very much to go to Fairyland again. + + + + + ENVOI + + TO THE FAIRIES + + Kindly little fairy friends, + Here I fain would make amends; + For I seek my verses through, + Find no word of thanks to you. + + Many, oh, so many times + You have helped me with my rhymes; + When my tiny songs were dumb + Oft and often have you come; + Oft and often have I heard, + Sweeter than the song of bird, + Fairy voices, crystal-clear, + Very softly at my ear + (While you poised on fluttering wings) + Telling me enchanting things. + Often at the fall of night, + In the gentle, dusky light + Through my garden as I went, + To my joy and wonderment + Suddenly the air around + Blossomed into lovely sound, + And I knew that you were there + All about me everywhere. + + Could I tell what I have heard, + Magic sound and magic word, + There would be a book indeed + Fit for all the world to read. + But alas!--For all my pains, + Of those sweet mysterious strains + I can only hope to catch + Here an echo, there a snatch. + Yours is any happy line, + All that's done amiss is mine. + + + + +The author's best thanks are due to the Editor and Proprietors of +_Punch_, through whose courtesy she is able to include in this +collection a number of verses which have already appeared in that paper. + + + +PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LTD., EDINBURGH. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fairy Green, by Rose Fyleman + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59726 *** |