En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Fairy Song

The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.

O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.

From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.

When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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The Fairy Queen Sleeping. By Stothard

She lay upon a bank, the favourite haunt
Of the spring wind in its first sunshine hour,
For the luxuriant strawberry blossoms spread
Like a snow-shower there, and violets
Bow'd down their purple vases of perfume
About her pillow,--link'd in a gay band
Floated fantastic shapes, these were her guards,
Her lithe and rainbow elves.

WE have been o'er land and sea,
Seeking lovely dreams for thee,--
Where is there we have not been
Gathering gifts for our sweet queen?
We are come with sound and sight
Fit for fairy's sleep to-night,--
First around thy couch shall sweep
Odours, such as roses weep
When the earliest spring rain
Calls them into life again;
Next upon thine ear shall float
Many a low and silver note,
Stolen from a dark-eyed maid
When her lover's serenade,
Rising as the stars grew dim,
Waken'd her from thoughts of him.
There shall steal o'er lip and cheek
Gales, but all too light to break
Thy soft rest,--such gales as hide
All day orange-flowers inside,
Or that, while hot noontide, dwell
In the purple hyacinth bell;
And before thy sleeping eyes
Shall come glorious pageantries,--
Palaces of gems and gold,
Such as dazzle to behold,--
Gardens, in which every tree
Seems a world of bloom to be,--
Fountains, whose clear waters show
The white pearls that lie below.--
During slumber's magic reign
Other times shall live again;
First thou shalt be young and free
In thy days of liberty,--
Then again be woo'd and won
By thy stately OBERON .
Or thou shalt descend to earth,
And see all of mortal birth.

No, that world's too full of care
For e'en dreams to linger there.
But, behold, the sun is set,
And the diamond coronet
Of the young moon is on high
Waiting for our revelry;
And the dew is on the flower,
And the stars proclaim our hour;
Long enough thy rest has been,
Wake, TITANIA , wake our queen!

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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My Frost-King - Song II

Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,
Singing little Violet's name.
'Mong the green trees was it whispered,
And the bright waves bore it on
To the lonely forest flowers,
Where the glad news had not gone.

Thus the Frost-King lost his kingdom,
And his power to harm and blight.
Violet conquered, and his cold heart
Warmed with music, love, and light;
And his fair home, once so dreary,
Gay with lovely Elves and flowers,
Brought a joy that never faded
Through the long bright summer hours.

Thus, by Violet's magic power,
All dark shadows passed away,
And on the home of happy flowers
The golden light for ever lay.
Thus the Fairy mission ended,
And all Flower-Land was taught
The 'Power of Love,' by gentle deeds
That little Violet wrought.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Brighter Shone The Golden Shadows

Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,
Singing little Violet's name.
'Mong the green trees was it whispered,
And the bright waves bore it on
To the lonely forest flowers,
Where the glad news had not gone.

Thus the Frost-King lost his kingdom,
And his power to harm and blight.
Violet conquered, and his cold heart
Warmed with music, love, and light;
And his fair home, once so dreary,
Gay with lovely Elves and flowers,
Brought a joy that never faded
Through the long bright summer hours.

Thus, by Violet's magic power,
All dark shadows passed away,
And o'er the home of happy flowers
The golden light for ever lay.
Thus the Fairy mission ended,
And all Flower-Land was taught
The 'Power of Love,' by gentle deeds
That little Violet wrought.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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The Frost-King' Song II

Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,
Singing little Violet's name.
'Mong the green trees was it whispered,
And the bright waves bore it on
To the lonely forest flowers,
Where the glad news had not gone.

Thus the Frost-King lost his kingdom,
And his power to harm and blight.
Violet conquered, and his cold heart
Warmed with music, love, and light;
And his fair home, once so dreary,
Gay with lovely Elves and flowers,
Brought a joy that never faded
Through the long bright summer hours.

Thus, by Violet's magic power,
All dark shadows passed away,
And on the home of happy flowers
The golden light for ever lay.
Thus the Fairy mission ended,
And all Flower-Land was taught
The "Power of Love," by gentle deeds
That little Violet wrought.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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Serenade

Hide, happy damask, from the stars,
What sleep enfolds behind your veil,
But open to the fairy cars
On which the dreams of midnight sail;
And let the zephyrs rise and fall
About her in the curtained gloom,
And then return to tell me all
The silken secrets of the room.

Ah, dearest! may the elves that sway
Thy fancies come from emerald plots,
Where they have dozed and dreamed all day
In hearts of blue forget-me-nots.
And one perhaps shall whisper thus:
Awake! and light the darkness, Sweet!
While thou art reveling with us,
He watches in the lonely street.

poem by Henry Timrod
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Whispers of trees

Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves

Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves

Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells

It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves

Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell

Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell

Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well

Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell

Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell

poem by David Whalen
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Lady of the Stars

Fondled in moss and warm ferns
Earth invites the soul too gratitude
Let the wind speak its deep heart
Replenished by waters of joy
She is a forest filled with song
Moonlight swirls on the serene river
Her eyes of star roses glow
Under the boughs of mystic oaks
Streams chant with wood gnomes
Sky clasps the earth’s supple breasts
Lovers in meadows of elves and lilies
Lovers like the ancient tides of time
Waters sparkle like eternal diamonds
Her hair sings like sweet songbirds
My Lady of the stars smiles

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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YOU and I

...sharing the sweetness of soft kisses while red lips all
mischievous send an invite to the celestial gods them-
selves and the wild winds join the party thrown open to
goblins and fairies and elves and the stars seem to shine
in the lively eyes of a million lovers who all seek to find
the special one to be held tight in affectionate arms while
amorous voices whisper the sweetest words that were
ever formed and even the sun and moon throw kisses
at each other while Venus and Mars embrace in a new
understanding of love - and you and I - and YOU and I
together you and I twirl together, mad with delight…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Unseen Worlds

On trade winds of time they travel by light
Their voices float on sound-lit beams
They fly just past our muted sight
On prism blessed transparent wings

A voice as soft as a fledgling dove
Breath as sweet as an angels love.

If sought with mortal eyes
They are masters of disguise
And forever will they elude
For only with the heart and soul
May the fairy world be viewed.

Once you've seen the fairy realm
You'll never disbelieve
The stories told in ancient times
Of kingdoms once perceived.

Be faithful to the mighty oak
For there in lies the portal
Most grand and wise of ancient trees
A hope for every mortal

So sad for those who can not see
A life of toil and fears
The magic warmth of fairy lights
Shall never dry their tears

On the day when realms collide
We'll see a new sunrise
And realities unseen to us
Will appear before our eyes

poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
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The Fairy's Promise

Poet.
Beautiful silver-winged spirits of good,
That hide in the leaves of the loneliest wood;
Green-kirtled fairies whom none may see
But the soul that hath passion for Poesie.
Brownies and kelpies and fays and elves
Who keep the moon to your own little selves;
Ye whose light revel and quick-tripping round
Bend the white daisy-buds down to the ground:
The moon may be high and the night may be clear,
But leave them and list to a poet's prayer.

Fairy.
Mortal, speak on! we have loved thee long,
Thou hast told of our revels in sweetest song;
And only, alas! by the faith of men
Hold we our lives in the grassy glen.
Thou hast never plucked daisy or heather-bell
From the emerald braes where the fairies dwell;
Thou didst never fright from her leafy nest
The bird that the Fairies love ever the best,
But hast turned thy foot aside silently
When her round black eye fell fearful on thee;
Thou hast never torn fishes with cruel hooks
From the pleasant ripple of summer brooks;
So we love thee well, and will list to thy prayer,
Though the moon may be up, and the night may be clear.

Poet.
White-footed Fairy-Queen, close by the sea,
Like a beautiful child at her father's knee,
There sitteth a city beneath a hill
Where a lady is living apart and still;
Lovely and gentle and wise is she,
I love her most truly and faithfully;
Better than all that the world may hold,
Better than honour and life and gold.
I would thou shouldst watch her by day and by night,
That her beautiful eyes may be ever bright.

Fairy.
How shall we know her, that we may keep
Watch of her waking, and ward of her sleep?

Poet.
Look for a lady whose glossy hair
Borders a forehead most frank and fair;
Eyes that are full of a heavenly light
Like sister stars in the front of night;
Lips curving red like the crimson fold
Of a half-shut rose in the early cold,
Which never with singing or speech were stirred,
But the singing and speech was the sweetest heard;
Busy white fingers, slender and small,
Little feet lost in her garments' fall.
Graces like these and a thousand above
Shall guide thee in seeking the lady I love.

Fairy.
What name weareth she? tell us it true;
Whisper it low to the fairy crew.

Poet.
Read it, sweet Queen, on my beating heart,
Graven so deep, it can never part;
This shall be sign of the lady ye seek,
Say to her 'Janet' and she shall speak.

Fairy.
Fifty and four of my valiant fays
Shall watch in her walks through the weariest days;
Fifty and four in their liveries white
Have charge of her dreams in the dreariest night.
And the spirit that doth not his bidding well
Shall pine for the year in a dark nut shell.

Poet.
And may two of the truest at either ear
Whisper his name who hath sent them there!

Fairy.
Ay! and the fleetest shall come on the wind
Bringing thee news of thy lady's mind;
Rest thee well, lover! be quiet and calm;
Thy lady is charmed with the Fairies' charm.

poem by Edwin Arnold
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Holy Night

Everything sighs with moonlight
Who owns the sun and stars?
Prayer sails outside of mortal time
My soul lives in another dimension

Gentle palm trees sway in shadows
The sea shines in wake of the moon
Waves role and ebb on quiet shores
Sacred moment swells with eternity

The universe is a friend to sojourners
Stars of Holy portent glow with awe
Gentle night along this white sand
Mystic soft light on kelp and shells

Lights from the small mountain village
They fish the sea like centuries before
I sit on an old rock of ancient lava
The glimmer of the stars is hypnotic

Dreams mingle with beauty true
Fellowship with wonder and peace
Assurance that all will be well
Spirit in the sweet breeze and tide

Gratitude ascends on this Holy Night

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Sweet Dream

I weave sweet dreams
of twinkling light
in moonlit night

I entwine a garland of stars
in moonlit night

I do all so
to embellish you to look
like a fairy queen
and cherish you in moonlit night

I do so all
to see you like second moon
for graceful moment in moonlit night

I weave sweet dreams
of my thoughts and
make a garland
to vesture you to look
like a fairy queen

The rapacity of moon
will increase to see your beauty
then I will cover you
like the cloud
in moonlit night

I will ask the moonlit night
not to leave us alone
and be with us
throughout life.

poem by Ramesh Rai
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She Takes Away My Sorrow

Upon the mossy grass she lays
Dreaming like the sun
We see the butterflies on the meadow
Hear the crickets by the woods
Evening brings magenta with violet
The moon basks like a lover
Leaves sigh in the soft breeze
Now the stars shine with fate

Without your love I fade into the strange
The Milky Way smiles like a warm world
A campfire glows like paradise
The coals of love burning like my heart
Pine trees are mystical witnesses
We sit on an old log holding hands
Darling can you hear the elves laugh?
Voices like candles of angels

By the river time is a gentle rose
Life is my friend not my foe
Rain has left the summer vibrant
Green radiance amidst the blue heaven
Her eyes bring me assurance
Her touch tender as sweet hope
The moment blossoms like a flower
Her kiss like a moon on fire
She takes away my sorrow

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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To the Faerie Lady

I once believed in fairies,
Pixies, elves, and such,
But as I grew, I thought I knew
That they were just too much.
I lived my humdrum life each day,
To work and then back home;
The years flew by, and with them I
Forgot of elves and gnomes;
Until I met a tender soul
Who believed in fairy lore,
And showed me things like fairy rings
Till I believed once more.

Copyright (C) 2004, John Bliven Morin

poem by John Bliven Morin
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Lily-Bell and Thistledown Song I

Awake! Awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
On the rippling waves, that brightly flow
Beneath the flowering vines.
Awake! Awake! for the low, sweet chant
Of the wild-birds' morning hymn
Comes floating by on the fragrant air,
Through the forest cool and dim;
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.

Awake! Awake! for the summer wind
Hath bidden the blossoms unclose,
Hath opened the violet's soft blue eye,
And awakened the sleeping rose.
And lightly they wave on their slender stems
Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,
Waiting for us, as we singing come
To gather our honey-dew there.
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.

poem by Louisa May Alcott
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One Of Twain

One of twain, twin-born with flowers that waken,
Now hath passed from sense of sun and rain:
Wind from off the flower-crowned branch hath shaken
One of twain.

One twin flower must pass, and one remain:
One, the word said soothly, shall be taken,
And another left: can death refrain?

Two years since was love's light song mistaken,
Blessing then both blossoms, half in vain?
Night outspeeding light hath overtaken
One of twain.

Night and light? O thou of heart unwary,
Love, what knowest thou here at all aright,
Lured, abused, misled as men by fairy
Night and light?

Haply, where thine eyes behold but night,
Soft as o'er her babe the smile of Mary
Light breaks flowerwise into new-born sight.

What though night of light to thee be chary?
What though stars of hope like flowers take flight?
Seest thou all things here, where all see vary
Night and light?

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The Night Piece, To Julia

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mis-light thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.

Then Julia let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv'ry feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee.

poem by Robert Herrick
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Cupid And Swallows Flying From Winter. By Dagley

'We fly from the cold.'

AWAY , away, o'er land and sea,
This is now no home for me;
My light wings may never bear
Northern cloud or winter air.
Murky shades are gathering fast,
Sleet and snow are on the blast,
Trees from which the leaves are fled,
Flowers whose very roots are dead,
Grass of its green blade bereft,
These are all that now are left.
--Linger here another day,
I shall be as sad as they;
My companions fly with spring,
I too must be on the wing.

Where are the sweet gales whose song
Wont to waft my darts along?
Scented airs! oh, not like these,
Rough as they which sweep the seas;
But those sighs of rose which bring
Incense from their wandering.
Where are the bright flowers that kept
Guard around me while I slept?

Where the sunny eyes whose beams
Waken'd me from my soft dreams?--
These are with the swallows gone,--
Beauty's heart is chill'd to stone.

Oh! for some sweet southern clime,
Where 'tis ever summer time,--
Where, if blossoms fall, their tomb
Is amid new birth of bloom,--
Where green leaves are ever springing,
Where the lark is always singing,--
One of those bright isles which lie
Fair beneath an azure sky,
Isles of cinnamon and spice,
Shadow each of Paradise,--
Where the flowers shine with dyes,
Tinted bright from the sun-rise,--
Where the birds which drink their dew,
Wave wings of yet brighter hue,
And each river's course is roll'd
Over bed of pearl and gold!

Oh! for those lime-scented groves
Where the Spanish lover roves,
Tuning to the western star,
His soft song and light guitar,--
Where the dark hair'd girls are dancing,
Fairies in the moonlight glancing,
With pencill'd brows, and radiant eyes,
Like their planet-lighted skies!
Or those clear Italian lakes
Where the silver cygnet makes
Its soft nest of leaf and flower,
A white lily for its bower!

Each of these a home would be,
Fit for beauty and for me:
I must seek their happier sphere
While the Winter lords it here.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Mystic Earth

Mystic earth restores the sacred traveller
Mountains where wolves play with sojourners
Seeds deep with wisdom grow their life

Humble villages where trees laugh
Festive mushrooms, leaves of healing
Shamans of the ancient forest

Evil men know nothing of timeless medicine
Fruit from Eden replenishes pilgrims
The meek know the garden is a door way

Tonight crickets sing, pines listen with joy
Cedars are like great owls of time
Rivers flow with sweet peace

Your never alone, they are wondrous friends
Elves are not fairy tales, wake up!
Clover grows to magnify the green spirit

Fire flies play like shooting stars
Drink from a waterfall of wood gnomes
The cry of the loon haunts a magic night

Summer flowers sing such fine melodies
Hear the wind bring the voice of comfort
Rain on the daffodils blesses the oaks

Moonlight on yellow geraniums gather love
Rainbow fall will soon dance for the great King
All are invited to the harvest of beauty

She wears jewelry made of dappled sun light
Golden waves like the sea flowing in the universe
Opal, Topaz, diamonds forged from tribal ghosts

Beryl and onyx sigh with queens of ancient bliss
Eagle feathers lift the spirit into turquoise blue
Open the gates of the gifted Sequoias, giants

Dawn is a meeting of many noble angels
Look at Jupiter serenade the lovers moon
Stars smile for the hearts of searchers

The earth is a grand mystic friend

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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After A Lecture On Moore

SHINE soft, ye trembling tears of light
That strew the mourning skies;
Hushed in the silent dews of night
The harp of Erin lies.

What though her thousand years have past
Of poets, saints, and kings,--
Her echoes only hear the last
That swept those golden strings.

Fling o'er his mound, ye star-lit bowers,
The balmiest wreaths ye wear,
Whose breath has lent your earth-born flowers
Heaven's own ambrosial air.

Breathe, bird of night, thy softest tone,
By shadowy grove and rill;
Thy song will soothe us while we own
That his was sweeter still.

Stay, pitying Time, thy foot for him
Who gave thee swifter wings,
Nor let thine envious shadow dim
The light his glory flings.

If in his cheek unholy blood
Burned for one youthful hour,
'T was but the flushing of the bud
That blooms a milk-white flower.

Take him, kind mother, to thy breast,
Who loved thy smiles so well,
And spread thy mantle o'er his rest
Of rose and asphodel.

The bark has sailed the midnight sea,
The sea without a shore,
That waved its parting sign to thee,--
'A health to thee, Tom Moore!'

And thine, long lingering on the strand,
Its bright-hued streamers furled,
Was loosed by age, with trembling hand,
To seek the silent world.

Not silent! no, the radiant stars
Still singing as they shine,
Unheard through earth's imprisoning bars,
Have voices sweet as thine.

Wake, then, in happier realms above,
The songs of bygone years,
Till angels learn those airs of love
That ravished mortal ears!

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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