THE SONG OF THE CROCUS FAIRIES
Crocus of yellow; new and gay;
Mauve and purple, in brave array;
Like a cup of light,-
Hundreds of them are smiling up,
Each with a flame on its shining cup,
By the touch of the warm and welcome sun
Opened suddenly. Spring's begun!
Dance then, fairies, for joy and spring
The song of the coming again of Spring.
The Crocus Fairies
THE SONG OF THE PRIMROSE FAIRY
The Primrose opens wide in spring;
Her scent is sweet and good:
It smells of every happy thing
In sunny lane and wood.
I have not half the skill to sing
And praise her as I should.
She's dear to folk throughout the land;
In her is nothing mean:
She freely spreads on every hand
Her petals pale and clean.
And though she's neither proud nor grand,
She is the Country Queen.
The Fairy Primrose
THE SONG OF THE DAFFODIL FAIRY
I'm everyone's darling: the blackbird and starling
Are shouting about me from blossoming boughs;
For I, the Lent Lily, the Daffy-down-dilly,
Have heard through the country the call to arouse.
The orchards are ringing with voices a-singing
The praise of my petticoat, praise my gown;
The children are playing, and hark! they are saying
The Daffy-down-dilly is come up to town!
The Fairy Daffodil
THE SONG OF THE WILLOW-CATKIN FAIRY
The people call me Palm, they do;
They call me Pussy-Willow too.
And when I'm full in bloom, the bees
Come humming round my yellow trees.
The people trample round about
And spoil the little trees, and shout;
My shiny twigs are thin and brown:
The people pull and break them down.
To keep a Holy Feast, they say,
They take my pretty boughs away.
I should be glad-I should not mind-
If only people weren't unkind.
Oh, you may pick a piece, you may
(So dear and silky, soft and grey);
But if you're rough and greedy, why
You'll make the little fairies cry.
(This catkin is the flower of the Sallow Willow)
THE SONG OF THE LADY'S-SMOCK FAIRY
Where the grass is damp and green,
Where the shallow streams are flowing,
Where the cowslip buds are showing,
I am seen.
Dainty as a fairy's frock,
White or mauve, of elfin sewing,
'Tis the meadow-maiden growing-
Dainty Fairy Lady's-Smock
THE SONG OF THE LARCH FAIRY
Sing a song of Larch trees
Loved by fairy-folk;
Dark stands the pinewood,
Bare stands the oak,
But the Larch is dressed and trimmed
Fit for fairy-folk!
Sing a song of Larch trees,
Sprays that swing aloft,
Pink tufts, and tassels
Grass-green and soft:
All to please the little elves
Singing songs aloft!
The singing Larch Fairy
Fairy poems and illustrations by
English artist Cecily Mary Barker