The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 55 : A tell-tale in their company They never could endure; And whoso kept not secretly Their

A tell-tale in their company They never could endure; And whoso kept not secretly Their mirth, was punished sure; It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blue: Oh, how the Commonwealth doth need Such justices as you!

Richard Corbet [1582-1635]

THE FAIRY FOLK

Come cuddle close in daddy's coat Beside the fire so bright, And hear about the fairy folk That wander in the night.

For when the stars are s.h.i.+ning clear And all the world is still, They float across the silver moon From hill to cloudy hill.

Their caps of red, their cloaks of green, Are hung with silver bells, And when they're shaken with the wind Their merry ringing swells.

And riding on the crimson moth, With black spots on her wings, They guide them down the purple sky With golden bridle rings.

They love to visit girls and boys To see how sweet they sleep, To stand beside their cosy cots And at their faces peep.

For in the whole of fairy-land They have no finer sight Than little children sleeping sound With faces rosy bright.

On tip-toe crowding round their heads, When bright the moonlight beams, They whisper little tender words That fill their minds with dreams; And when they see a sunny smile, With lightest finger tips They lay a hundred kisses sweet Upon the ruddy lips.

And then the little spotted moths Spread out their crimson wings, And bear away the fairy crowd With shaking bridle rings.

Come, bairnies, hide in daddy's coat, Beside the fire so bright-- Perhaps the little fairy folk Will visit you to-night.

Robert Bird [1867-

THE FAIRY BOOK

When Mother takes the Fairy Book And we curl up to hear, 'Tis "All aboard for Fairyland!"

Which seems to be so near.

For soon we reach the pleasant place Of Once Upon a Time, Where birdies sing the hour of day, And flowers talk in rhyme;

Where Bobby is a velvet Prince, And where I am a Queen; Where one can talk with animals, And walk about unseen;

Where Little People live in nuts, And ride on b.u.t.terflies, And wonders kindly come to pa.s.s Before your very eyes;

Where candy grows on every bush, And playthings on the trees, And visitors pick basketfuls As often as they please.

It is the nicest time of day-- Though Bedtime is so near,-- When Mother takes the Fairy Book And we curl up to hear.

Abbie Farwell Brown [1875-1927]

THE VISITOR

The white goat Amaryllis, She wandered at her will At time of daffodillies Afar and up the hill: We hunted and we holloa'd And back she came at dawn, But what d'you think had followed?-- A little, pagan Faun!

His face was like a berry.

His ears were high and p.r.i.c.ked: Tip-tap--his hoofs came merry As up the path he clicked; A junket for his winning We set in dairy delf; He eat it--peart and grinning As Christian as yourself!

He stayed about the steading A fortnight, say, or more; A blanket for his bedding We spread beside the door; And when the c.o.c.ks crowed clearly Before the dawn was ripe, He'd call the milkmaids cheerly Upon a reedy pipe!

That fortnight of his staying The work went smooth as silk: The hens were all in laying, The cows were all in milk; And then--and then one morning The maids woke up at day Without his oaten warning,-- And found he'd gone away.

He left no trace behind him; But still the milkmaids deem That they, perhaps, may find him With b.u.t.ter and with cream: Beside the door they set them In bowl and golden pat, But no one comes to get them-- Unless, maybe, the cat.

The white goat Amaryllis, She wanders at her will At time of daffodillies, Away up Woolcombe hill; She stays until the morrow, Then back she comes at dawn; But never--to our sorrow-- The little, pagan Faun.

Patrick R. Chalmers [18

THE LITTLE ELF

I met a little Elf-man, once, Down where the lilies blow.

I asked him why he was so small, And why he didn't grow.

He slightly frowned, and with his eye He looked me through and through.

"I'm quite as big for me," said he, "As you are big for you."

John Kendrick Bangs [1862-1922]

THE SATYRS AND THE MOON

Within the wood behind the hill The moon got tangled in the trees.

Her splendor made the branches thrill And thrilled the breeze.

The satyrs in the grotto bent Their heads to see the wondrous sight.

"It is a G.o.d in banishment That stirs the night."

The little satyr looked and guessed: "It is an apple that one sees, Brought from that garden of the West-- Hesperides."

"It is a cyclops' glaring eye."

"A temple dome from Babylon."

"A t.i.tan's cup of ivory."

"A little sun."

The tiny satyr jumped for joy, And kicked hoofs in utmost glee.

"It is a wondrous silver toy-- Bring it to me!"

A great wind whistled through the blue And caught the moon and tossed it high; A bubble of pale fire it flew Across the sky.