They ride, they ride, all on astride
ghostly steeds, side by side,
out from the hollow hill they come;
no echoing horns, no beating drum.
in silence march they!
The line, the line, in perfect time,
bold warriors and their ladies, fine;
with gilded helm and silver spear,
their faces grim without a fear
except of breaking day.
They pass, they pass, through shadowed grass,
the column on their silent task;
What ancient battle seeking,
Or is a crowning, queen or king,
their destination?
So bright, so bright; into the night
the column passes out of sight
and all it quiet there, and then
the forest creatures sound again
their ululation.
James, the village Parson, was frustrated to hear
That many a parishioner of fairies possessed fear
A straight and upright Anglican, he knew this to be daft
His flock required guidance and counsel through his craft
At Sunday mass he would begin to set the record straight
To purge these superstitions, he firmly would berate
The common folk would need to cleanse and purify their hearts
Of fairy tales, black magic, and other pagan arts
Children, turn your hearts from sin and trust in our Lord’s love
Pray to Christ for mercy! Sing with angels high above!
Fairies have no relevance in our cosmology
Birds and insects possess wings in Earth’s biology
The villagers sat in the pews and bowed their heads in shame
Their knowledge would not go away, their minds remained the same
They knew the frightful consequence of straying in the night
Too far from their cottages, in forests void of light
Through kindred generations, were these warnings handed down
Naughty daughters could be trapped, and curious sons might drown
If they ventured much too close to the creatures of the dark
When wicked elves and naiads, with goblins make their mark
With proper godly forethought, the villagers took heed
To not disturb the fairy realm, two traditions have agreed
To live in cautious harmony so all could have a place
In the woods and riverlands that claim the haunted space
The brave and willing Parson decided he must act
These simple-minded folktales from his mission did detract
By example and courageous zeal, he’d show the village folk
That nothing threatened on the land of pine tree, elm and oak
As the moon began to rise, he took to the woods and mist
Most certain that this fairyland too barmy to exist
With nervous playful energy, disdain and disbelief
He called out: fairies…come and play and praise your priestly chief
In moments few, the dazzling lights from every bush and tree
Enveloped the crusader, who had ne’er a chance to flee
Hypnotized, enraptured, in the psychic grips of Fae
James, the stubborn Parson, is still missing to this day!
Often on a midnight breeze, one still might hear his voice
His wandering spirit so confused, still questioning his choice
At times it feels like ecstasy, at times it haunts with pain
But, no one doubts the simple fact…with fairies he’ll REMAIN!
Down past the roses in the flow’ring dell
live a very tiny family in a walnut shell;
You may pass them by and never know,
for they’re very, very small in their bungalow.
Papa is proud and a little fat
as he putters in the garden in a big red hat;
Mama’s in the kitchen cooking up a meal;
Nel is helping Mama with a carrot peel.
A gray-green mite pulls the plow along
as Bobby sings an ancient tilling song;
A bluebird chirps a lovely harmony,
accomp’nied by a passing bumble bee.
‘Tis said that Papa once was a king
and they lived in a palace with everything,
but an evil witch cast a powerful spell
one evening at the toll of the sunset bell.
They found themselves tiny, and to their grief,
blowing in the wind on a passing leaf,
far from the palace and over the trees,
they flew far away on the evening breeze.
Down they came and lightly fell,
just past the roses in the flow’ring dell,
and there they bravely made their home,
with the help of a fairy and a friendly gnome.
Do they regret losing everything,
to live in the glen where the robins sing?
Free of worries and all worldly care,
the tiny little family is quite happy there
If you go down where the roses grow,
take care where you step, for now you know
of the tiny little family in the walnut shell,
down past the roses in the flow’ring dell!
Without a sound the prairie wolf appears
Then darts below into the tangled vines
While seeking distance from misguided fears
A banded kingsnake b’neath a rock reclines
The tortoise with its blackened shell once blinks
Revealing it is real, with wizened face
Leaves us to wonder what it really thinks
Of those inclined to move at fleeter pace
With certainty I felt I knew this land
I roam its weathered path around and round
Its song, its scent, its sage so master-planned
Yet now three guests arrived without a sound
Refreshed by new life, ready to discover
What secret winged sprites do nearby hover?
If my love shall love me, let there be naught hate, standing in fairy light
Exceptionally see thy lays to mend
‘I love his smile , his kiss
Of naught to hurt our sweet love
Thy shall be encumbered with my soul
A pleasures of each centaurs day
For my heart shall be his
Be changed or given to another I shall be
May each sun bring us closer to the moonlight fairy dance
Thy shall dry his awaking tears
A deliverance creature of the nigh
Thy shall comfort my only song
Be my love , my beloved one of time
Thy is the blessed , goodness part of me I shall forever love thee
Loud fluttering sounds, adorn the mystical skies
Buttershums shelterd us
Timeless petals lay on fairys of lace
I love thee, kiss my lips
There are twin fairy love, one of the sight, cradled lull
Lightness tenderly the voice of your gentle soul , I am she
I shall feel this with pixies laughter, each gnomes sleeve
Tenderly you carry the rose to my breathe
Beneath, all rafters, I seek thee
With scented candles dancing , celeste teas
We shall kiss my winged one,Watching rippling of tides estuarine
With many woven dreams, I miss thee
Stumble it!
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