Tale Of The Little Fairy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


I found a little fairy someone had discarded on the ground. I picked her up put her in my pocket. Never again will she be alone. She can now sit on my desk as she has found a new home. If I have,
any wishes I hope she will grant them to me. This little fairy I found someone had discarded on the ground Given me hundreds of years ago, My name has a meaning you shall know: It means, in the
speech of the bygone folk, "Smoke of the Earth" - a soft green smoke!



A wonderful plant to them I seemed; Strange indeed were the dreams they dreamed, Partly fancy and partly true, About "Fumiter" and the way it grew.



Where men have ploughed or have dug the ground, Still, with my rosy flowers, I'm found; Known and prized by the bygone folk As "Smoke of the Earth" - a soft green smoke! See the rose-berried
Spindle All to sunset colours turning, Till the thicket seems to knindle, Just as thugh the trees were burning. While my berries split and show Orange-coloured seeds aglow. One by one my leaves
must fall; Soon the wind will take them all. Soon must fairies shut their eyes For the Winter's hushabies; But, before the autumn goes, Spindle turns to flame and rose! the little fairy was a timid
creature living in her world of sunbeams and moon lit glares children used to notice the way the would shift & fly out of a frenzy of beautiful cadence there lies an opened door

Submitted: December 02, 2017

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Submitted: December 02, 2017

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I found a little fairy
someone had discarded on the ground.
I picked her up
put her in my pocket.
Never again will she be alone.
She can now sit on my desk
as she has found a new home.
If I have, any wishes
I hope she will grant them to me.
This little fairy I found
someone had discarded on the ground

Given me hundreds of years ago,
My name has a meaning you shall know:
It means, in the speech of the bygone folk,
"Smoke of the Earth" - a soft green smoke!

A wonderful plant to them I seemed;
Strange indeed were the dreams they dreamed,
Partly fancy and partly true,
About "Fumiter" and the way it grew.

Where men have ploughed
or have dug the ground,
Still, with my rosy flowers, I'm found;
Known and prized by the bygone folk
As "Smoke of the Earth" -
a soft green smoke!

See the rose-berried Spindle
All to sunset colours turning,
Till the thicket seems to knindle,
Just as thugh the trees were burning.
While my berries split and show
Orange-coloured seeds aglow.
One by one my leaves must fall;
Soon the wind will take them all.
Soon must fairies shut their eyes
For the Winter's hushabies;
But, before the autumn goes,
Spindle turns to flame and rose!

the little fairy was a timid creature

living in her world of sunbeams and moon lit glares

children used to notice the way the would shift & fly

out of a frenzy of beautiful cadence there lies an opened door

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