POETRY.
FAIRIES.
FAIRIES are dancing, are dancing in the meadows, Slip out through the window, not a soul will see ;
Let us watch them playing, through the moonbeams and the
shadows, Darting, flying, swooping, like swallows on the sea.
All the earth and air are fall of tiny noises, All the chestnut candles are scented and alight.
Leave the hot bright rooms, and the murmur of tired voices, Come out where the fairies are dancing in the night.
Hide behind this beech-tree, where the boughs are leafy. Tread the flowers tenderly, elves are quick to hear; Crouch down in the bracken, where the fronds are thick and heavy, Could they see us watching, they soon would disappear.
Vanish in the brushwood, slide among the grasses, Swing among the chestnut blossoms far out of sight, Dive into the lake, where the kingcups stand in masses— Silence ! for the fairies are dancing in the night.
Ah ! but they have heard us, the tiny dancers shiver, They wonder, and they feel that something strange draws nigh ; And they clasp their little hands, and their small sweet faces quiver, And some have opened brilliant wings ready to fly.
Come away come,—we are worn with pain and striving, What should we do among these creatures fair and bright?
We lost long since our child-hearts, have tasted life and living, We may not see the fairies daneing in the night.
CLARA. GRANT DUFF.
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