In the forest, 'neath the trees
Where fairies ride on bumble-bees,
Sparkling gems and gleaming gold
Lie hidden in a toadstool's fold.
Little folk with shining wings
Frolic through the magic rings
And peals of laughter fill the glade
From tinkling voices unafraid.
Here romps Puck with all his wiles
And green-clad imps with cheeky smiles,
While elfin faces slyly peek
In hectic games of hide and seek.
Naiads slide down rainbow beams
To mossy banks near crystal streams,
Where dancing droplets sweetly shower
Bluebell blooms and foxglove flower.
Gentle zephyrs, soft as sighs,
Or gossamer wings of dragonflies,
Stir petals laced with soft perfumes
From myriads of scented blooms.
On blushing buds of rambling rose,
Sprites cavort with twinkling toes,
As lissome ladies, agile men,
Caper through the darkling glen.
Now the daylight starts to fade,
As Sirens softly serenade.
Pixie people dance and shimmer
In radiance of moonbeams' glimmer.
Midnight calls, the witching hour,
A change comes on the fairy bower;
With silvery shards the forest gleams,
And spirits all, drift off to dreams.
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