Volume I Part 52 (1/2)

THE FAIRY BOOK

In summer, when the gra.s.s is thick, if mother has the time, She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme, And often she is sweet enough to choose a leafy nook, Where I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairybook.

In winter, when the corn's asleep, and birds are not in song, And crocuses and violets have been away too long, Dear mother puts her thimble by in answer to my look, And I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairybook.

And mother tells the servants that of course they must contrive To manage all the household things from four till half-past five, For we really cannot suffer interruption from the cook, When we cuddle close together with the happy Fairybook.

Norman Gale [1862-

FAIRY SONGS

I From ”A Midsummer-Night's Dream”

Over hill, over dale, Through bush, through brier, Over park, over pale, Through flood, through fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green: The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favors, In those freckles live their savors: I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

II From ”A Midsummer-Night's Dream”

You spotted snakes with double tongue, Th.o.r.n.y hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; Come not near our fairy queen.

Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!

Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby.

Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!

Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offence.

Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!

Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good-night, with lullaby.

III From ”The Tempest”

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court'sied when you have, and kissed,-- The wild waves whist,-- Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark!

Bow, wow, The watch-dogs bark: Bow, wow.

Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, c.o.c.k-a-diddle-dow!

IV From ”The Tempest”

Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

William Shakespeare [1564-1616]

QUEEN MAB From ”The Satyr”

This is Mab, the Mistress-Fairy, That doth nightly rob the dairy And can hurt or help the churning, As she please without discerning.