FAIRY POEMS
The Road to Fairyland
by
Ernest Thompson Seton
 
  Do you seek the road to Fairyland
    I'll tell; it's easy, quite.
  Wait till a yellow moon gets up
    O'er purple seas by night,
  And gilds a shining pathway
    That is sparkling diamond bright
  Then, if no evil power be nigh
    To thwart you, out of spite,
  And if you know the very words
    To cast a spell of might,
  You get upon a thistledown,
    And, if the breeze is right,
  You sail away to Fairyland
    Along this track of light.

The Fairy Child
by
  Lord Dunsanay
 

 From the low white walls and the church's steeple,
   From our little fields under grass or grain,
 I'm gone away to the fairy people
   I shall not come to the town again.
 
 You may see a girl with my face and tresses,
   You may see one come to my mother's door
 Who may speak my words and may wear my dresses.
   She will not be I, for I come no more.
 
 I am gone, gone far, with the fairies roaming,
   You may ask of me where the herons are
 In the open marsh when the snipe are homing,
   Or when no moon lights nor a single star.
 On stormy nights when the streams are foaming
   And a hint may come of my haunts afar,
 With the reeds my floor and my roof the gloaming,
   But I come no more to Ballynar.
 
 Ask Father Ryan to read no verses
   To call me back, for I am this day
 From blessings far, and beyond curses.
   No heaven shines where we ride away.
 
 At speed unthought of in all your stables,
   With the gods of old and the sons of Finn,
 With the queens that reigned in the olden fables
   And kings that won what a sword can win.
 You may hear us streaming above your gables
   On nights as still as a planet's spin;
 But never stir from your chairs and tables
   To call my name.  I shall not come in.
 
 For I am gone to the fairy people.
   Make the most of that other child
 Who prays with you by the village steeple
   I am gone away to the woods and wild.
 
 I am gone away to the open spaces,
   And whither riding no man may tell;
 But I shall look upon all your faces
   No more in Heaven or Earth or Hell.

"The Stolen Child"
by
W. B. Yeats

 
 
 
  Where dips the rocky highland
  Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
  There lies a leafy island
  Where flapping herons wake
  The drowsy water-rats;
  There we've hid our faery vats,
  Full of berries
  And of the reddest stolen cherries.
  Come away, O human child!
  To the waters and the wild
  With a faery, hand in hand,
  For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
 
  Where the wave of moonlight glosses
  The dim grey sands with light,
  Far off by furthest Rosses
  We foot it all the night,
  Weaving olden dances,
  Mingling hands and mingling glances
  Till the moon has taken flight;
  To and fro we leap
  And chase the frothy bubbles,
  While the world is full of troubles
  And is anxious in its sleep.
  Come away, O human child!
  To the waters and the wild
  With a faery, hand in hand,
  For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
 
  Where the wandering water gushes
  From the hills above Glen-Car,
  In pools among the rushes
  That scarce could bathe a star,
  We seek for slumbering trout
  And whispering in their ears
  Give them unquiet dreams;
  Leaning softly out
  From ferns that drop their tears
  Over the young streams
  Come away, O human child!
  To the waters and the wild
  With a faery, hand in hand,
  For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
 
  Away with us he's going,
  The solemn eyed:
  He'll hear no more the lowing
  Of the calves on the warm hillside
  Or the kettle on the hob
  Sing peace into his breast,
  Or see the brown mice bob
  Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
  For he comes, the human child!
  To the waters and the wild
  With a faery, hand in hand,
  From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.

The Wind on the Hills
by
Dora Sigerson
(Written Approx 1895-1900)

 
  Go not to the hills of Erin
    When the night winds are about;
  Put up your bar and shutter
    And so keep the danger out.
 
  For the good-folk whirl within it,
    And they pullyou by the hand,
  And they push you on the shoulder,
    Till you move to their command.
 
  And lo! you have forgotten
    What you have known of tears,
  And you will not remember
    That the world goes full of years:
 
  A year there is a lifetime
    And a second but a day;
  And an older world will meet you
    Each morn you come away.
 
  Your wife grows old with weeping,
    And your children one by one
  Grow gray with nights of watching,
    Before your dance is done.
 
  And it will chance some morning
    You will come home no more;
  Your wife sees but a withered leaf
    In the wind about the door.
 
  And your children will inherit
    The unrest of the wind;
  They shall seek some face elusive,
    And some land they never find.
 
  When the wind is loud, they sighing
    Go with hearts unsatisfied,
  For some joy beyond remembrance,
    For some memory denied.
 
  And all your children's children,
    They cannot sleep or rest,
  When the wind is out in Erin
    And the sun is in the West.


 

The Land of Faery Quick Menu
The Land of Faery
 What is a Faery   What a Faery Looks Like
The OtherWorld   Faeries and Humans
Faery Rings   Fairy Superstitions
Faery Poems   Faery Stories
Believe in Magic   Faery Counting
Virtual Greetings   Greeting Cards
We Believe in Santa    Gifts and Awards
Web Rings   Sign Guest Book
Campaign & Society Memberships
Apply for our Award   Contact Me

Thank You for visiting our Realm