THE FAIRIES
by: William Allingham (1824-1889)
- P the airy
mountain,
- Down the rushy glen,
- We daren't go a-hunting
- For fear of little men;
- Wee folk, good folk,
- Trooping all together;
- Green jacket, red cap,
- And white owl's 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.
-
- High on the hill-top
- The old King sits;
- He is now so old and gray
- He's nigh lost his wits.
- With a bridge of white mist
- Columbkill he crosses,
- On his stately journeys
- From Slieveleague to Rosses;
- Or going up with music
- On cold starry nights
- To sup with the Queen
- Of the gay Northern Lights.
-
- They stole little Bridget
- For seven years long;
- When she came down again
- Her friends were all gone.
- They took her lightly back,
- Between the night and morrow,
- They thought that she was fast asleep,
- But she was dead with sorrow.
- They have kept her ever since
- Deep within the lake,
- On a bed of flag-leaves,
- Watching till she wake.
-
- By the craggy hill-side,
- Through the mosses bare,
- They have planted thorn-trees
- For pleasure here and there.
- If any man so daring
- As dig them up in spite,
- He shall find their sharpest thorns
- In his bed at night.
-
- Up the airy mountain,
- Down the rushy glen,
- We daren't go a-hunting
- For fear of little men;
- Wee folk, good folk,
- Trooping all together;
- Green jacket, red cap,
- And white owl's feather!
MORE
POEMS BY WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |
|