Oh, where are the fairies now? Poverty, poverty, Hast thou robbed the merry elves Of their right to live and breathe? Barren is the Southland now, There the dusk men writhe in pain; Barren is old Amsterdam, There each year we offer babes On the shrine of Gold and Greed; Barren is Killarney's green, Erin's fairies pine away For the light of liberty; From his cave hoar Merlin cries, "Self! Self! Self! hath killed the elves, Self, the basest of the God; Nevermore, nevermore, Shall the airy creatures rove With their magic caps and bells, Spreading wonder everywhere; Fairy night hath turned to day Moonlight fades, the stars are dead, Naught can bring the fairies back, Naught save Love, the long lost Love, Bring him from his secret lodge, Crown his brows, and let him reign, Seat him on the Throne of Years To the strain of minstrel lyre. For the fairies must return Ere the twilight of the earth." Where are the fairies now? Titania and Oberon, And Puck, who changed the night to day And slept beneath the rose hued sun? |