I am buttercup, with compassion, no pain
I will help to make magic again
I will heal with sweetness and grace
I will return to your smiling angelic face

Humans don’t see me, they just don’t believe
I am riding on their fairy sleeve
Look close to my eyes of carnations and rose
I will sit on the tip of your nose

I am flowers in your garden each day
Come and look and smile for a while
I shall heal with love afflictions from those who care
I will always be at the heart to care

Washington USA

Fairies keep the rain away
and I will have a happy day
cam the wind remove the cloud
a clear blue sky from miles around
fairies keep the rain away
and I will have a happy day

Edinburgh UK

Fields of yellow faces following the sun
Impossible to count them each and every one,
Waving gently in the breeze they make a sunny sigh.
Stretching up their heads they smile at passers by.
Lots of little fairy helpers for the sunflower’s needs
They are the hidden secret for scattering the seeds
Hiding amongst the petals opening at dawn
Working all day to scatter, so new flowers will be born
And weary from the day’s work, at dusk with failing light
They close the petal shutters to rest throughout the night.
Should you be a believer, next time you pass, please try
To spend some time alone, amongst the faces to the sky
You may be the lucky one, for a magic sight to share
A sunflower fairy’s smile is a ray of light so rare.

High up on a steep bank in a dense carpet of green leaves covered in the starry blue flowers of the periwinkle, their bright yellow centres shining like stars, I gasped with surprise, for there resting gently against a large winkle shell was the most beautiful fairy I had ever seen, I hardly dare breathe lest I disturb her from playing with the tiny periwinkle which she was shaking in her hand, fascinated by the pollen which like fairy dust fell gently onto her face a thousand fairy kisses as freckles over her tiny nose?

I dream a dream of faerie queens and kings
in forest glade where I know faeries dwell.
The full moon dancing as the zephyr sings
Through cedar boughs and round the wishing well.

Oh romance sweet, a brave and noble knight
to princess fair was married on this day.
A royal banquet, such a festive sight.
Great merriment, we’ll dance the night away.

Sir Owl, from high atop a lofty pine,
acts sentinel. All’s well; his distant call.
In shadowed woods the new born fawns recline
too young to be at this year’s faerie ball.

No, don’t wake me just yet, it’s almost dawn,
Come sunrise, all the faeries will be gone.

One nice Summer day in August, everyone was out and gone,
Save for Keirsten and her Ganjin, who had stayed at home alone.They were sitting at the table, both enjoying Fairy Tea,
After washing up the teaset, gently, oh so carefully.

In the pan of soft warm water, they so gently washed each cup.
Keirsten did the careful washing; Ganjin did the drying up.

Tiny muffins, crumpets, teacakes, set upon the table there
All beside the steaming teapot–Oh, what tasty Fairy fare!

Fairy Tea has its own magic, for out never does run out,
And the flavor you imagine will come streaming from the spout.

So each person at the table conjures up her favorite kind;
Lemon, thimbleberry, moonbeam–what the drinker has in mind.

And you never spill it on you, even if you drop your cup;
Its enchantment keeps it safely; you just reach and pick it up.

And the pot stays warm forever, until washed and put away;
It will last the longest teatime, for an hour or a day.

So they sat there sipping, pouring, tasting different kinds of tea,
When they heard a noise above them, a soft humming like a bee.

And then Keirsten looked up, listening, hearing hums of Fairy flight;
Then she reached up, caught one gently, put it safely out of sight.

In the sugarbowl it rested, lying softly in the sweet
As she reached for several others, placed them gently on their feet

On the cakeplate, where they sampled tender crumbs of cake and pie,
While she kept on catching fairies, as they kept on floating by.

Some she put in cups and saucers, and a few she hid away
In the creamer, where they frolicked, swimming, giggling in their play.

In the teapot went a dozen, with the cover, softly laid,
And they yawned and stretched and nestled, as the light began to fade.

Keirsten made the Fairies welcome, with a place to spend the night,
With a lot of downy pillows, cushions, blankets softest white.

Then she laid some bits of paper all across the cups and bowls,
So they’d all be safe and comfy, air-conditioned by the holes.

Keirsten worked her childhood’s magic, as the night grew soft and deep;
And she leaned down close and whispered, “You’ll be safe here; go to sleep.”

But somewhere a Fairy poacher tracked their whereabouts to there,
And he took a bumbletaxi, coming buzzing through the air.

For it’s a fact, and we all know, that poachers cannot fly,
And they cannot catch a Fairy, when they’re soaring through the sky.

So he had to catch them sleeping, but he could not find their nest.
They surround themselves with magic, when they lay them down to rest.

He’d been sent to find some Fairies, for a circus far away.
He meant to catch some, and be gone, before the break of day.

But he’d been a long time traveling, and was hungry from his flight,
So he sat down on the table, and ate everything in sight.

Crumpets, muffins, little cupcakes, all the sandwiches cut small;
Jam and cream and scones and teacakes–he sat there and ate it all.

Then he reached for that small teapot, tried to pour himself a cup;
But he couldn’t make the tea pour; Magic had the spout stopped up.

So he peeked down in the teapot, and he saw them lying there;
And he squeezed into the teaspout, so’s to catch them unaware.

But those crumpets, scones, and teacakes made his tiny self too wide,
And he woke them with his shouting, as he tried to squeeze inside.

He was stuck, and could not move, and thus was trapped inside the spout.
He was dangling, just above them, though his feet were hanging out.

And his little face grew redder, from his being stuck so tight;
So the Fairies all took pity, and they freed him fro his plight.

Then the poacher was SO sorry, and he swore to mend his ways.
Now he’s poaching eggs at Denny’s, and he’s making Hollandaise.

As for Keirsten and her Ganjin, they still hostess Fairy Tea;
People come and sit, and visit, but the only ones who SEE

Are those who believe in Magic, and that dreams, indeed, come true.
You’re invited ANY teatime. And we all BELIEVE–Do YOU?

With special thanks to Rachel Dulsey USA

‘Fairy Poacher’ and ‘Bumbletaxi’ Copyright 2005© Rachel Dulcey used with permission
Copyright © 2005 Fairies World®

I was down in the meadow pondering my mind,
When I spotted a rose petal falling behind.
I mused that the butterflies were just having fun,
Flitting and flirting under a daffodil sun.

I sat by the stream and drank tea with a dragon.
We had dream berry bread and wine by the flagon.
Up popped a Fairy King on top of a starfish,
“Fly with me, dear maiden. I’ll be all that you wish.”

I thanked the dear dragon and waved on with a tear.
He promised me happiness with nothing to fear.
I hopped on the starfish and cherished my lover,
Touching his pure heart and the strength of his fervor.

We rode to the meadow and lay in fresh roses.
Passions breathed kisses and the stroking of noses.
Now, musing, the bright butterflies pondered the fun,
As we flitted and flirted in daffodil sun.

Time and again, it was more pleasure than rainbow.
A laugh and a touch and a whisper would follow.
Sated, I trifled; “Lord, are you granting my wish?”
“Or, is this a sweet dream caused by riding a fish?”

“It is all that you wished for.” he said with a kiss.
“Your soul so long troubled, it mislaid all of this.”
Then, I awoke. The gentle dragon was weeping.
“I’m sorry, my darling, you and I were sleeping.”

“Fairy Kings and startfish do not ride in this stream.”
“Your lover, your heart’s passions, were only a dream.”
“But, I have been part of you since time has begun.”
“I am real, beloved, in this daffodil sun.”

USA

Â

Sunlight shone from all around
Melting the blanket of snow on the ground
Flowers, bushes, trees galore
There stood a child staring with aweFigures dancing in the air
Gnomes fishing and starting to glare
“Oh, if only I could fly!�
Said one of them staring up at the sky.

Mystical and enchanting creatures
Some with odd and very strange features
In the middle stood a big elm tree
Where all the fairies come to tea

Rabbits, hedgehogs, moles or mice
Any beast that is rather nice
All are welcome to go to the Elm
For it is the entrance to the Fairy Realm

UK

The lady wearing silver calls but I don’t hear a thing
The Lady waits as I stand watching wild running wind
And spirits call as the rivers sing
The forest quiet and dark
I search the world without success
I try to find my mark Magic is leaving, the world. It is an unpleasant sight
I fear what it has become but cannot find the light
The lady wearing silver calls but I still don’t hear a thing
The voices in my head are calling and I still hear the rivers sing
The lady waits as I stand watching wild running wind
But with my family gone I fear the mortals wrath
My kin has had no chance to figure out the math
Yet still the lady waits as I stand watching Wild Running Wind

Canada

One day whilst walking though the woods in a fairy ring I stood, the fairies came and took me to dine and feast, it was breathtaking. They took me to their bower, with an ivy covered tower. I went inside and my oh my! A thousand fairies flittering by what a lovely sight to see. How beautiful fairies can really be.

There were fairies dancing, fairies sleeping,

Fairies smiling and fairies weeping.

I was down in the woods my mind pounding when I spotted a rose falling, I caught it and smelt it and it broke up and then I let the petals go, for love.
How far and wide the fairies fly on bright and golden wings, There were so many eyecatching things that you had to look twice in case you missed them, but if in your minds eye you catch one, always keep that memory safe because once such fairy fortune has come your way it will never go and when they settle down to sleep the soft song they start to sing is wonderful for the life we are in.

The joys of sleep of us we creep

we wish you all a good night sleep.

Never want their food or fire

Always get their hearts desire.

Jingle pockets full off gold

Marry when their seven years old.

Every fairy a child may keep two ponies and ten sheep.

They live on cherries they run wild

I would love to be a fairies child.

By Sade : Portsmouth Hants UK

Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze —

A few incisive Mornings —
A few Ascetic Eves —
Gone — Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod” —
And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.”

Still, is the bustle in the Brook —
Sealed are the spicy valves —
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves —

Perhaps a squirrel may remain —
My sentiments to share —
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind —
Thy windy will to bear!

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants —
At Evening, it is not —
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop upon a Spot

As if it tarried always
And yet its whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay
And fleeter than a Tare —

‘Tis Vegetation’s Juggler —
The Germ of Alibi —
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie —

I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit —
This surreptitious scion
Of Summer’s circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn —
Had Nature an Apostate —
That Mushroom — it is Him!

More information on Emily Dickinson