The Verse-Book of a Homely Woman

The Flight of the Fairies

     There's a rustle in the woodlands,
          and a sighing in the breeze,
     For the Little Folk are busy in the bushes
          and the trees;
     They are packing up their treasures, every
          one with nimble hand,
     Ready for the coming journey back to
          sunny Fairyland.

     They have gathered up the jewels from
          their beds of mossy green,
     With all the dewy diamonds that summer
          morns have seen;
     The silver from the lichen and the
          powdered gold dust, too,
     Where the buttercups have flourished and
          the dandelions grew.

     They packed away the birdies' songs,
          then, lest we should be sad,
     They left the Robin's carol out, to make
          the winter glad;
     They packed the fragrance of the flowers,
          then, lest we should forget,
     Out of the pearly scented box they
          dropped a Violet.

     Then o'er a leafy carpet, by the silent
          woods they came,
     Where the golden bracken lingered and
          the maples were aflame.
     On the stream the starlight shimmered, o'er
          their wings the moonbeams shone,
     Music filtered through the forest—and the
          Little Folk were gone!