Fairy Poetry of Felicia Dorothea Browne-Hemans
and Fairies haste away! This is Harriet's holiday:
Bring the lyre, and bring the lute, Bring the sweetly-breathing flute;
Wreaths of cowslips hither bring, All the honours of the spring;
Adorn the grot with all that's gay, Fays and Fairies haste away.
Bring the vine to Bacchus dear, Bring the purple lilac here,
Festoons of roses, sweetest flower, The yellow primrose of the bower,
Blue-ey'd violets wet with dew, Bring the clustering woodbine too.
Bring in baskets made of rush, The cherry with its ripen'd blush,
The downy peach, so soft so fair, The luscious grape, the mellow pear:
These to Harriet hither bring, And sweetly in return she'll sing.
Be the brilliant grotto scene The palace of the Fairy Queen.
Form the sprightly circling dance, Fairies here your steps advance;
To the harp's soft dulcet sound, Let your footsteps lightly bound.
forms to mortal eye; Let Harriet view your revelry.
All my life is joy and pleasure, Sportive as my tuneful measure;
In the rose's cup I dwell, Balmy sweets perfume my cell;
My food the crimson luscious cherry, And the vine's luxurious berry;
The nectar of the dew is mine; Nectar from the flowers divine.
And when I join the fairy band, Lightly tripping hand in hand,
moonlight's quivering beam, In concert with the dashing stream;
And oft my numbers on the green, Lull to rest the fairly queen.
" All my life is joy and pleasure, " Sportive as my airy measure."
To A Butterfly
Little fluttering beauteous fly, With azure wing of softest dye,
Hither fairy wanton hie, Nor fear to lose thy liberty:
For I would view, thou silly thing, The colours of thy velvet wing.
melting tints outvie, the glories of the summer sky.
Well I know thy life is short, One transient hour of idle sport:
Enjoy that little halcyon hour, And kiss each fair and fragrant flower;
No more I'll stay thy mazy flight, For short thy moments of delight.
Fairies are elusive, wonderous little things,
We saw them best as children, tried to touch their fairy wings.
But now that we are all grown up and adult, we don't see, those
tiny wonderous beings, that we saw when we were three.
They visit us each morning flying round as we get up, the sleep
that we wipe from our eyes, comes from their fairy cup.They wait and hope that we will say those words they long to hear; "I believe in Fairies", say it loud and say it clear.
For everytime you say it, another fairy will survive, but when you
say I don't believe another fairy dies."I believe in Fairies"
Sue Fellows Sept.98