Читать книгу All Among the Fairies - Ethel Jackson Morris - Страница 3

You thought all the fairies dead, you say,

Gone from this beautiful world so gay;

Lying asleep on a lost moonbeam,

Or carried away by a sparkling stream.

How silly to think the fairies die!

They are always somewhere dancing by,

Gliding here and whirling there,

Swiftly moving on little feet bare.

They float along on the gentle breeze,

That softly stirs the whispering trees;

They wander dreamily to and fro,

Past where the woodland waters flow.

The willow trees by the lonely creek,

The tall grey gums on the mountain peak,

Welcome them all as they dance along,

Tripping it lightly to Bellbird’s song.

When told of fairies, don’t shake your head,

And say that you know they all are dead;

For although the years glide swiftly by,

The sweet little fairies never die.