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| Fairies | |||
| A POEM— by Rose Fyleman | |||
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| THERE
are
fairies
at
the
bottom of our garden! It's not so very, very far away; You pass the gardner's shed and you just keep straight ahead— I do so hope they've really come to stay. There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles, And a little stream that quietly runs through; You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there— Well, they do. There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! They often have a dance on summer nights; The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze, And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights. Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams And pick a little star to make a fan, And dance away up there in the middle of the air? Well, they can. There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! You cannot think how beautiful they are; They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King Come gently floating down upon their car. The King is very proud and very handsome; The Queen—now you can guess who that could be (She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)? Well—it's Me! |
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