The fairies are dancing by brake and bower, For this in their land is the merriest hour. Their steps are soft, and their robes are light, And they trip it at ease in the clear moonlight. Their queen is in youth and in beauty there, And the daughters of earth are not half so fair. Her glance is quick, and her eyes are bright, But they glitter with wild and unearthly light. Her brow is all calm, and her looks are kind, But the look that she gives leaves but pain behind. Her voice is soft, and her smiles are sweet, But woe to thee who such smiles shall meet. She will meet thee at dusk like a lady fair, But go not, for danger awaits thee there. She will take thee to ramble by groves and by glen, And the friends of thy youth shall not know thee again.
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Published in 1999 by Dennis McCarthy
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