Best Fairy Poems

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
...

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
...

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
...

OVER hill, over dale,
   Thorough bush, thorough brier,
   Over park, over pale,
   Thorough flood, thorough fire,
...

On the banks of Ganges
I sat in a serene and sombre mood
Looking at the playful water
as the wind like a great artist
...

Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,
...

The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
...

Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
...

O! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy-
...

YOU spotted snakes with double tongue,
   Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong;
   Come not near our fairy queen.
...

'And ask ye why these sad tears stream?'

‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
OVID.
...

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Live fairy-gifts fading away,
...

(To Robert Graves)

I
...

Once upon a time a frog
Croaked away in Bingle Bog
Every night from dusk to dawn
He croaked awn and awn and awn
...

Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
like a buttercup
upon its branching stem-
save that it's green and wooden-
...

Why does a person fear?
Why does he or she lose cheer?
How does a person achieve?
How does one get mischief?
...

Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake,
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.
...

The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
...

From groves of spice,
O'er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
...

COME unto these yellow sands,
   And then take hands:
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,--
   The wild waves whist,--
...

PART I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
...

The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
...

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead:
...

Thou wast all that to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
...

How well I know what I mean to do
When the long dark autumn-evenings come:
And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue?
With the music of all thy voices, dumb
In life's November too!
...

(for Elizabeth Bishop)

Nautilus Island's hermit
heiress still lives through winter in her Spartan cottage;
...

So, I shall see her in three days
And just one night, but nights are short,
Then two long hours, and that is morn.
See how I come, unchanged, unworn!
...

I

Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
...

I opened the door in answer to a knock
And seeing who stood there
Gave me quite a shock
For there stood a fairy
...

Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide
Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's beams,
In lucent words my darkling verses dight,
And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams,
...

Soul rejoices by enlightened grace,
virile breeze smooches passion by mirth
heart touches tunes even million miles apart
earthly rhythm seems to reel thorough red
...

Now this is the story of Olaf
Who ages and ages ago
Lived right on the top of a mountain,
A mountain all covered with snow.
...

WHERE be ye going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there i' the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?
...

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
...

When we were girl and boy together,
We toss'd about the flowers
And wreath'd the blushing hours
Into a posy green and sweet.
...

A moonlight moor. Fairies leading a child.

Male Fairies: Do not fear us, earthly maid!
We will lead you hand in hand
...

I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said "You must not weep"
...

It is not given to every man to take a bath of multitude; enjoying a crowd is an art; and only he can relish a debauch of vitality at the expense of the human species, on whom, in his cradle, a fairy has bestowed the love of masks and masquerading, the hate of home, and the passion for roaming.

Multitude, solitude: identical terms, and interchangeable by the active and fertile poet. The man who is unable to people his solitude is equally unable to be alone in a bustling crowd.
...

Many times upon a time
There was a man who loved a woman.
Many times upon a time
There was a woman who loved a man.
...

A lake and a fairy boat
To sail in the moonlight clear, -
And merrily we would float
From the dragons that watch us here!
...

[Dedicated to the dead rivers of Bangladesh]

Once these paths were rivers,
These fields the processions of water.
...

HONEY, child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?
...

Cherries of the night are riper
Than the cherries pluckt at noon
Gather to your fairy piper
When he pipes his magic tune:
...

WHEN from the craggy mountain's pathless steep,
Whose flinty brow hangs o'er the raging sea,
My wand'ring eye beholds the foamy deep,
I mark the restless surge­and think of THEE.
...

I

I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
...

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
...

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad in foreign lands.
...

You're dancing in flowers this lover's fair
I'm stepping on clouds floating on air,
Swinging on stars dreaming on cue
Sliding down rainbows nearer to you,
...

A deep, delicious hush in earth and sky --
A gracious lull--since, from its wakening,
The morn has been a feverish, restless thing
In which the pulse of Summer ran too high
...

Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake;
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.
...

---------------------It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
...

The moon is lemon light, November cold.
The wind is blowing colors all apart.
Old leaves are writing their last signature
Upon the dimming windows of the world.
...

Don’t breakup as I had been yours
Number of beautiful dreams was ours
We decided to make it heaven
We cared for little things even
...

It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wint'ry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
...

Maiden-poet, come with me
To the heaped up cairn of Maeve,
And there we'll dance a fairy dance
Upon a fairy's grave.
...

Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake;
His healthful spirit eager and awake
To feel the beauty of a silent eve,
Which seem'd full loath this happy world to leave;
...

'Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait,
Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing
They mock the air with idle state.
...

I

In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal
sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky
...

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.

'T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,
...

'Won't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding in the garden;
'Can't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'
Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden;
...

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
...

Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
...

Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
The low, sweet tones of happy flowers,
Singing little Violet's name.
...

Cinderella in the street
In a ragged gown,
Sloven slippers on her feet,
Shames our tidy town;
...

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
...

1 Granny's come to our house,
2 And ho! my lawzy-daisy!
3 All the childern round the place
4 Is ist a-runnin' crazy!
...

It seems someone has cast a dark net
And the town has become a trout caught in that net;
It seems no morning has ever approached here, -
The town has sub-merged in an over-flowing darkness.
...

On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded its pictures. There before our eyes
We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone
...

The time has been that these wild solitudes,
Yet beautiful as wild, were trod by me
Oftener than now; and when the ills of life
...

She's the darling of the woodland,
And I seek her endlessly.
In the mountains fields and meadows,
Searching every bush and tree.
...

And canst thou mock mine agony, thus calm
In cloudless radiance, Queen of silver night?
Can you, ye flow'rets, spread your perfumed balm
...

To my friend George Fleming author of 'The Nile Novel' and
'Mirage')
...

Hark, hearer, hear what I do; lend a thought now, make believe
We are leafwhelmed somewhere with the hood
Of some branchy bunchy bushybowered wood,
Southern dene or Lancashire clough or Devon cleave,
...

(Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire)

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
...

I heard some foot steps with knock
it was midnight as sounded the clock
I saw one imaginary fairy in white frock,
I stared at her motionless as hard rock,
...

It is a light, that the wind has extinguished.
It is a pub on the heath, that a drunk departs in the afternoon.
It is a vineyard, charred and black with holes full of spiders.
It is a space, that they have white-limed with milk.
...

LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, “Come and play with me!”
...

[Brazil. A friend of the writer is speaking.]


Half squatter, half tenant (no rent)—
...

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee, from the hill-top looking down;
And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
...

The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;--
...

Today I opened wide my eyes,
And stared with wonder and surprise,
To see beneath November skies
An apple blossom peer;
...

I was outside St. Cecelia's Rectory
smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.
It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish
brown here and there. When I started to walk away,
...

for Sylvia Plath

O Sylvia, Sylvia,
with a dead box of stones and spoons,
...

A wonderful someone tall
and lean
Perhaps making the fairy
scene
...

Let me be,
As God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf,
Nor a fairy godmother,
...

It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
...

Lo, it is dark,
Save for the crystal spark
Of a virgin star o'er the purpling lea,
Or the fine, keen, silvery grace of a young
...

There was a little fairy
Sat beneath a tree -
Humming to her tiny self
A haunting melody;
...

The bells! — ah, the bells!
The little silver bells!
How fairy-like a melody there floats
From their throats. —
...

O Poesy is on the wane,
For Fancy's visions all unfitting;
I hardly know her face again,
Nature herself seems on the flitting.
...

The many sow, but only the chosen reap;
Happy the wretched host if Day be brief,
...

Come up here, O dusty feet!
Here is fairy ready to eat.
Here in my retiring room,
Children ,you may dine
...

Henry the Seventh of England
Wasn't out of the Royal top drawer,
The only connection of which he could boast,
He were King's nephew's brother-in-law.
...

Fairy snow, fairy snow,
Blowing, blowing everywhere,
Would that I
Too, could fly
...

The childhood is
Early part of lives
From two to
Eighteen years old,
...

China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
Till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown,
Bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her,
...

Once more the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new,
And domes the red-plowed hills
With loving blue;
...

When Ruth was left half desolate,
Her Father took another Mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
...

Through the house give glimmering light
By the dead and drowsy fire
...

There was a time when I was whole, in body, mind, heart & soul
When I was flawless without seam, a fairy tale a perfect dream
A single piece with no divide, with faith, hope & love inside
Complete, entire & intact. All I need, nothing lacked
...