Want to know where little Grace is,
when her chores are well and good?
Seeking out the fairy places
in the ancient, nearby wood.

Away from all familiar faces,
Father’s, Mother’s, Sister Mary’s,
little Grace has special spaces
where she hears the songs of fairies.

Where the brook so swiftly races,
near the spreading fairy ring,
donned in taffeta and laces,
Grace can hear the fairies sing.

A song of ancient times embraces,
little Grace’s heart, imbued;
when at last she homeward paces
with her little soul renewed.

Copyright (C) 2013 by John Bliven Morin

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 5th, 2013 at 5:53 pm and is filed under Fairy Poems, John Bliven Morin, Spiritual. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.