Where The Fairies Go
A Faint little sound,
In the Garden is heard.
Much softer by far,
Than the chirp of a Bird.
The Garden is cold
With the Whisper of frost
The Perfume and Flame
of Summer is lost
Its only the fall
of the leaves they say
But no! It's the fairies
They're going away
These dear friendly elves
can't dance in the snow
The Blossoms have gone
And the Fairies must go
the weyr
