on
06/18/99
Home of the Faefolk
Welcome to the Underhills, the enchanted home of the Faefolk.
Here you might happen upon the Nymphs and Naides
frolicking in the streams and rivers. Or you may catch
glimpse of the Sprites and Pixies as they sing and dance
the Faerie Round. Beware of the, sometimes, vendictive
Goblins...take caution not to upset or insult them.
"The
land of faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue."
- William Butler Yeats
Come
- gather near to the smoldering
fire
The embers, aflame, will console and
inspire!
Sit in the glade when the faery muse
comes -
Magick is made with the flick of our
tongues!
Oh! dance with the Sidhe under silvery
moon!
Word woven trance is the light of their
boon!
Bear ye the hearts of all mortal men -
Dance with the fey in the boughs of
Green Glen!
-Ferrashynn
artwork by Cicely M. Barker
The
Child and the Faeries
Author~
Unknown
The woods are full of faeries!
The trees are all alive;
The river overflows with them,
See how they dip and dive!
What funny little fellows!
What dainty little dears!
They dance and leap, and prance and peep,
And utter fairy cheers!
I'd like to tame a fairy,
To keep it on a shelf,
And dress its little self.
I'd teach it pretty manners,
It always should say "please",
And then you know I'd make it sew,
And curtsey with its knees!
"take
a bit of Faerie dust,
and go, now on your way,
For
we all know that Faerie dust
Makes
us Laugh and play."
Behold
the chariot of the Fairy Queen!
Saw but the fairy pageant,
The Fairy's frame was slight--yon fibrous cloud,
As that which, bursting from the Fairy's form,
The Fairy Queen descended,
FAIRY, FAIRY, FAIRY
'I am the Fairy MAB: to me 'tis given
The Fairy and the Soul proceeded;
Within the Fairy's fane.
The Fairy and the Spirit
Percy B Shelley
Come
faeries, take me out of this dull world,
for I would ride with you upon the wind
and dance upon the mountains like a flame
W.B.Yeats
Copyright 1996, Mark
Ivan Cole
Song
of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
by
Leigh Hunt
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Stolen sweets
are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.
When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing.
