Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FAIRY'S SPELL, by FREDERICK W. POOLE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FAIRY'S SPELL, by                    
First Line: Hearkene ye and heede me welle
Last Line: And softly whisper low.
Subject(s): Fairies; Immortality; Night; Elves; Bedtime


Hearkene ye and heede me welle:
Younge menne shunne the Fayrie's Spell.
Should ye meete a troupe by chance;
Shutte your eyes whenne fayries dance.

'Twas far away
In the twilight grey
In a dell where blue-bells grow,
Where zephyrs sigh
As night draws nigh,
And whisper soft and low.

A moonbeam kissed the sparkling rill.
The sighing wind was hushed and still,
To hear the trembling wood-thrush trill
The song that fairies know.

The brooks and trees—
The passing breeze,
Have each a tale to tell.
To love and learn
Seek brae and burn
In vales where fairies dwell.

Then be it fate or be it chance
Enthralled I saw the fairies dance;
A dream of glistening wings—a glance,
And I knew the Fairy's Spell.

Soft eyes, the hue
Of Heaven's blue,
A smile of sweetness rare,
Illumed a face,
No mortal grace
Could hope to e'er compare.

Her ear was like a tinted shell,
Her voice, a tuneful silver bell:
I envied moonbeams as they fell
And lingered in her hair.

Her footfalls light,
Bewitched the night,
Her song beguiled the breeze
To gently waft
Its cadence soft,
And sing it to the trees.

Her throat was white, her tresses fair
And golden, waving, light as air;
A treasured image still I bear,
No other mortal sees.

For her I sigh;
Ah, what care I
What fellow mortals say?
For weal or woe
Ah, who may know?
She danced my heart away.

Enraptured in the fairy's thrall,
I heed the lonely woodland's call,
And go, when evening shadows fall
And soothe the dying day.

Far—far away
In the twilight grey,
To a dell where blue-bells grow,
Where zephyrs sigh
As night draws nigh,
And softly whisper low.





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