The Fairies Wink
A fleeting flutter, nimble quick.
A fairy flit round new leaf tip.
Gave me a wink; try this one sip.
From acorn cup put to my lip.
Upon my tongue sweet nectar drop.
My world did spin and then did stop.
And blinking much I realised.
I now had wings and was her size.
Surprised, I found another change.
My manly body rearranged.
A female form did now have I.
She winked again that naughty eye.
Then flew me gently hand in hand.
And lay me down on velvet land.
Embraced and kissed me softly and …
I’ve long forgot I was a man.
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Arrane ny Ferishyn – Song of the Fairies
Cred dy jinnagh yn slouree as y drolloo
Troggal seose ayns caggey cheoie;
Maidjey’n phot, as ny jystyn ooilley,
Ooilley felyral nol-ry-hoi ?
Maidjey’n phot as ny vuirdyn klarklagh,
Cressad, goggan, jyst as claare,
Ooilley caggey, scryssey dy, sonnaasagh,
Tra vecagh oo cleddit er y laare.
Cred dy jinnagh yn Tarroo-ushtey spottagh,
As yn Ghlashtin oo y ghoalll,
As yn Fenoderee yn glionney, sprangagh,
Cloolesagh y yannoo jeed nol’n voal ?
Finn McCoole, as ooilley e heshaght,
Ferrish ny glionney, as y Vuggane,
Dy lymsagh ad cooidjagh mysh dty lhiabbee,
Eisht role ad lesh oo ayns suggane.
(And now in English:)
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Tree Story by Simon Lidwell
Drip, Drip, Drip …
Ripples undulated slowly across mirrormere in perfect circles, undisturbed by twig or leaf they inexorably spread to seek the outer bank. Mist there was, and indeed always would be, hanging over the bank- or was it that the bank lay suspended in the mist? One lone tree was all else that braved the shore of mirrormere. Devoid of company the two existed almost out of time. The tree gnarled with age, twisted in slow tortuous war with the mist. Striving to reach the water whose perfect surface was as unaturally smooth as the tree was excessively twisted – both lingering in an ageless fog reminded of the passing of time only by water condensing on a leaf, forming drops and falling … drip, drip
Plink!
Filed under Poetry & Prose | Comment (0)The Pedlar by Walter de la Mare
There came a Pedlar to an evening house;
Sweet Lettice, from her lattice looking down,
Wondered what man he was, so curious
His black hair dangled on his tattered gown:
Then lifts he up his face, with glittering eyes, -
‘What will you buy, sweetheart? – Here’s honeycomb,
And mottled pippins, and sweet mulberry pies,
Comfits and peaches, snowy cherry bloom,
To keep in water for to make night sweet:
All that you want, sweetheart, – come, taste and eat!’
Tangle
Tangle skips to spring bare feet,
neath blossom blooms to dance and leap,
to Bluebell tunes within her dreams,
midst Cherry petals on the breeze.
Tangle’s ridden mad March Hares,
to Elfin kingdoms Faery fairs,
A Hawk whose feathers in her hair,
guides her home so she may share.
If you’ve respect then she may tell,
of folklore lost and Faery spells,
so listen gently, listen well,
and you may hear her Bluebell bells.
Filed under Poetry & Prose | Comment (1)by Fleas
The Fairy Oak of Corriewater
The small bird’s head is under its wing,
The deer sleeps on the grass;
The moon comes out, and the stars shine down,
The dew gleams like the glass:
There is no sound in the world so wide,
Save the sound of the smitten brass,
With the merry cittern and the pipe
Of the fairies as they pass.
But oh! the fir maun burn and burn,
And the hour is gone, and will never return.
The Unappeasable Host
The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold,
And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes,
For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies,
With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold:
I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast,
And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me.
Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea;
Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West;
Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat
The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost;
O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host
Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary’s feet.
Filed under Poetry & Prose | Comment (0)by William Butler Yeats
The Lady of Shallot
Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro’ the field the road runs by
To many-tower’d Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
An Historical Overview of the Whereabouts of Gnomes and Elves, Fauns and Faeries, Goblins, Ogres, Trolls and Bogies, Nymphs, Sprites, and Dryads
By Buck Young
A long, long time ago, the Earth belonged to the creatures of the wood. By creatures of the wood I mean gnomes and elves, fauns and faeries, goblins, ogres, trolls and bogies, nymphs, sprites, and dryads. They tended it and took care of it, played, danced and sang in it, cared for wounded animals, sat on mushrooms discussing matters of import and drinking Labrador tea, rode down streams on leaves and bark, and parachuted from trees with dandelion seeds. This was the world into which mankind was born.
These early days, when man was but a newly arrived dinner guest who hadn’t yet taken over the entire house, are fairly well documented in the literature and folklore of the world, so there’s no need to go into it here. What I am interested in, and what I am asking you to be interested in, is the question…
“Where did all the gnomes and elves, fauns and faeries, goblins, ogres, trolls and bogies, nymphs, sprites and dryads go?”
Tam Lin
Please visit Tam-Lin.org, a site dedicated entirely to this particular ballad.
O I forbid you, maidens a’,
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.
There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,
Either their rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.
