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Escape To A World
Of Fairy Enchantment!

The following poems
are from Fairy Crafts, G
ardens & Teas by
Carla J. Nelson

Down where the ferns Grow wild and free,
A fairy showed these
Things to me.

Secret mazes through
Towering fronds,
That lead to vaults,
Of fairy wands!

Carla J. Nelson

The woodlands are,
Aglow tonight.
Black cohosh spires,
Are blooming white.

"Fairy Candles",
To light the way.
For fairy work,
And fairy play.

Carla J. Nelson


One summer's day,
At break of dawn,
I saw fairies,
With no clothes on.

Washing themselves,
With lavender dew.
Taking a bath,
Like me and you.

Carla J. Nelson


If you're honest,
Polite and neat,
Gentle, patient,

Kind and sweet.

Fairies will put you

On their list,
And some day you'll
Be fairy kissed!

Carla J. Nelson


Blues and Reds,
Another day gone.

Carla J. Nelson
I now have a shop at:

with my own unique
fairy items.

The shop's name is
A number of my poems can be found at:

Some light and airy.
Others, dark -very!
A fairy man,
Wizened and wee.
With ears the size,
Of a garden pea.
Perched himself,
On top of my knee,
And whispered so softly,
These words to me.
"I'll play thee a tune,
And sing just for thee,
If you give me a spot,
Of your heavenly tea."

Carla J. Nelson
Some of my favorite fairy poems were written by Marjorie Kahl Lawrence.
She was born in 1904 and died in 1994. She was a school teacher who lived and taught in the small towns of Dayton and Mulberry, Indiana in the 1950's, 60's.  She was well known in the area and
had numerous published books of poetry.

This picture is from the back cover of her book, Shining Wings. 
Copies can still be found through
This is my copy of Shining Wings by Marjorie Kahl Lawrence.  It originally belonged to my dear friend and neighbor,
Faye Leibenguth Snyder, who knew Marjorie personally. Faye gave this to me shortly before she died at the age
of 98 in 2005.
Used copies are still available through various sites on the Internet.
I love a poem.
I fancy a rhyme.
Give me a verse,
And life's sublime!
Carla J. Nelson

I'm always puzzled why "new" books of fairy
poems are always just a compilation of old
poems, ones that were written one hundred
years ago or more.  While I love
the old ones, I have read countless new
fairy poems by gifted, modern day poets 
hat are just as worthy of recognition and
publication.  If you have a fairy poem you
would like to share here,
I would be happy to include it?  Send it to me at:
Please abide by copyright restrictions
and include the name of the author.
               Tho' ye be mortal,
I can see.
                  A kindred spirit dwells in thee.

              I doff me hat, extend me hand.
                    Come linger with me in faeryland.

                                                          Carla J. Nelson
The image above is by gifted artist James Browne.  It is entitled Peter Pan and Tink and is available through his website:

There's a magic in the woodland
That happens but once a year.
Bluebells are chiming lullabies
That only the fairies hear.

Making Fairy Dust

Want to attract a fairy?

Here is what you have to do.
Make a bit of fairy dust,
With sparkles through and through.

Just crush dried herbs and flowers,
Until they are extra fine.
Then add a dash of glitter,
To make it really shine.

If it has a subtle fragrance,
That is even better yet.
They'll appreciate your effort.
And those fairies don't forget.

Then find a spot that's special.
Where the wee folk might a-light.
And sprinkle a bit of fairy dust,
While wishing with all your might.

A sincere, and gentle heart,
Wishing hard, and fairy dust.
Are sure to win you favor.
And a wee one's love and trust.

Carla J. Nelson

William Shakespeare
You can't see her now but I did.
No bigger than an eyelid.
She fluttered out that fairy door
Then tiptoed 'cross the mossy floor.
An aura 'roundabout her shone.
And then I blinked and she was gone.

Carla J. Nelson

From:  Lots of Stories by Rowena Bennett - 1946

A leprechaun without a boot
Once sat upon a twisted root.
His face was wrinkled as the bark,
His eyes shone yellow in the dark.
"Oh leprechaun, what do you do?"
"I'm cobbling a fairy shoe."

He worked away with awl and hammer,
His golden hobnails made a glow.
The boots were soft and green as leaves
And pointed at the toe.
"Oh leprechaun, what tiny shoes!"
"I make the kind that fairies use."

The Fairy Nursery Tree
The Fairy Nursery Tree

The West Wind whispered, “Come away.
There’s a sight to see in the woods today.”
I followed where the West Wind led,
Past nodding violets, through ferns we sped.
Over velvet moss and woodland debris,
While the West Wind beckoned and murmured to me.
"T’is fairy folk, whose bid we do.
They have summoned me.  They have summoned you.”
No sooner had he said these words.
Than the West Wind left and I heard the birds
Sing a lullaby’s sweet refrain,
While somewhere nearby, they were calling my name.
I turned to look and then I spied,
A venerable oak that had long since died.
And near the base where it still stood,
Were hollows and nooks in its decaying wood.
In each crevice, to my surprise,
Was a sight so enchanting, I blinked my eyes.
Fairy babies filled the spaces,
Small, perfect forms with pretty little faces.
Some peering out, others asleep.
So delicate and dear, I thought I would weep.
I gaped in wonder, gazed in awe.
I was overwhelmed by the vision I saw.
The West Wind came. He called to me.
I had seen the sight I was bidden to see.
I waved goodbye and blew a kiss.
To the fairy babies - to that realm of bliss.
I marvel still that it was me,
Summoned to view The Fairy Nursery Tree.

Carla J. Nelson
From:  Claraya's Fairy Journal - Copyright 2007
Leprechaun, leprechaun, won't you make me some shoes?
Won't you make me the kind that the fairy-folk use?
With a kick in the heel and a point to the toe,
That I may be dancing wherever I go.

From:  Lots of Stories by Rowena Bennett  1946

See them dancing,  dancing,
While the silver moon
Tips their swiftly glancing
Little silver shoon!
Tripping, tripping lightly
Where their footprints fall.
Look! the grass is brightly
Growing green and tall!
Springing close, unbroken
In a fairy ring!
For tomorrow's token
Of their frolicking!

Evaleen Stein
Child Songs of Cheer - 1918


Parsley, lovage, rosemary, rue,
Tansy, sage and meadowsweet too.
Tarragon, fennel, thyme and dill.
Marjoram, mint and chamomile.
Herbs for food, healing and pleasure.
Herbs are a botanical treasure.

Copyright:  Carla J. Nelson

The Ladies of Lopper
The Ladies of Lopper
(Not a fairy poem, but sure to tickle your funny bone!)

The ladies of Lopper,
Convened over tea.
They were all very proper,
It was plain to see.
They were elegantly dressed,
In the most fashionable clothes,
And each you might guess,
Liked to look down their nose.
They talked of their roses,
Their hybrids and antiques,
And bragged of their gardeners,
With glowing critiques.
The newcomer squirmed.
She felt out of place.
Though she'd worn her best jeans,
She knew she'd fallen from grace.
They fixed her with stares.
She flinched at their gaze.
She was no match for their airs.
Then a question was raised.
"Do you garden, my dear?
Perhaps roses?  What sorts?"
Then a gasp and a sneer,

When she said, "I grow worts."

Carla J. Nelson

Originally appeared in Herb Gatherings "The Newsletter For The Thymes" - 9/10, 1998

Copyright:  Carla J. Nelson - All Rights Reserved

Wort!  It's an interesting little extra syllable tacked on to the end of common plant names
that indicated what folk remedy that plant was used for.  Birthwort, sneezewort, liverwort, etc.


Ode To The Hoosier Poet

Jim Riley was a poet
And this for sure is true.
He wrote no verse for kings and queens,
Just for folks like me and you.

He wrote of farms, fields and brooks,
And carefree childhood days.
He wrote of love and death and loss,
And a wee one's winning ways.

Children and the simple life,
Were subjects he held dear.
And though he left us long ago,
His words live to give us cheer.

Carla J. Nelson

This tribute to James Whitcomb Riley
was originally published in
Herb Gatherings "The Newsletter For The Thymes"
May/June, 1999 issue

It  was just a very
Merry fairy dream!--
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;
Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song.

In the mossy passes,
Saucy grasshoppers
Leaped about the grasses
And the thistle-burs;
And the whispered chuckle
Of the katydid
Shook the honeysuckle-
Blossoms where he hid.

Through the breezy mazes
Of the lazy June,
Drowsy with the hazes
Of the dreamy noon,
Little Pixy people
Winged above the walk,
Pouring from the steeple
Of a mullein stalk. . . . . . .

From:  The Pixy People
By:  James Whitcomb Riley

I shuddered and I shut my eyes,

And still could see and feel aware,
Some mystic presence waited there,
And staring with a dazed surprise,
I saw a creature so divine,
That never subtle thought of mine
May reproduce to inner sight,
So fair a vision of delight.

From Fantasy:  A poem by James Whitcomb Riley
The Hoosier Poet

The Orchard Fairies
The Orchard Fairies

There is an orchard hereabouts,
Where bodes a fairy clan.

And summer long they tend the trees.

It's Mother Nature's plan.

They guard the lovely apples

From beetle, worm and bird.
And dance beneath the branches,
To such music you've not heard.

In Autumn when the fruit is ripe,
They polish and they shine.
Until each globe is glowing,
So tempting and divine.

Then off they go to their fairy hills,
Leaving those fruits to us.
For a falling apple to fairy folk,
Is like you being hit by a bus.

But they'll be back again next Spring,
When the buds begin to swell.
And frolic again 'neath the apple trees,
In the orchard where they dwell.

Copyright:  Carla J. Nelson

Fairy folk have long been instrumental in teaching children the values of honesty, gentleness, a love of nature and other positive attributes.  Did you know that there have been times when they have been used to teach good hygiene?  This is a tricky thing to teach children as anyone who has ever cared for a toddler knows.

So I was particularly intrigued when browsing a book section at an antique store to find a 1923 edition of Through Storyland to HealthlandIt was written by Esther Zucker, Lillian Rabell, and Gertrude Katz, three teachers at School #143 in Brooklyn, NY.  In the introduction, James J. McCabe, the District Superintendent of the New York Public Schools then, wrote:  "This book surrounds the road to health with all the interest and glamour and romance that is sure to appeal to every child.  Polly is not merely a character in an adventurous fairy story, she is the little girl that we see about us everywhere . . . . It is a joy and pleasure to read this book which deals with the happier side of hygiene."

This is a seventy-eight page school textbook designed to teach and encourage healthful eating, good sleeping habits and proper hygiene in little children.  And it utilizes a lovely little fairy girl and her fairy friends to do it.  Here is just a sampling of the poems included in this charming, educational story.   Ah!!  The wonders of fairies!

"From the land of far away,
Where the fairies love to stay,
I have come to lead you, Dear,
Where each child is free from fear.
Healthy, happy children play,
Romp, and laugh, throughout the day.
In that far off land am I
Queen of Healthland.  Let us fly."

"Now close those little eyes, my Dear,
To Healthland, then, we'll gently steer.
There you will find how all should live,
The rules of Health to you we'll give."

"My name is Laughing Fairy, Dear.
You'll never find me in a tear.
In sunny smiles I love to live.
To happy children gifts I give.
I'll make your cheeks all round and red,
If you'll keep smiling and go early to bed."

"Fresh Air Fairy is my name.
All the world now sings my fame.
Where I am, no germs can live,
Strength and beauty do I give."

"The Health Fairies have warned me, Dear,
To guide you right, so listen here,
You ne'er should borrow book or pen,
Nor other girls your pencils lend.
For sickness and all dirty germs
Collect on them like many worms.
So have your pen and pencils, too,
And drinking cup for none but you.
Your own towel use if you are wise
To keep all germs from skin and eyes."

Do you seek the road to Fairyland
I'll tell; it's easy, quite.
Wait till a yellow moon gets up
O'er purple seas by night,
And gilds a shining pathway
That is sparkling diamond bright
Then, if no evil power be nigh
To thwart you, out of spite,
And if you know the very words
To cast a spell of might,
You get upon a thistledown,
And, if the breeze is right,
You sail away to Fairyland
Along this track of light.

Ernest Thompson Seton

I met a Lady in the Meads
Full beautiful, a fairy's child.
Her hair was long, her foot was light
And her eyes were wild ----

The fairies went from the world, dear,
Because men's hearts grew cold,
And only the eyes of children see
What is hidden from the old.

Kathleen Foyle

Come cuddle close in daddy's coat
Beside the fire so bright,
And hear about the fairy folk
That wander in the night.

Robert Bird

The wall is silence, the grass is sleep,
Tall trees of peace their vigil keep,
And the Fairy of Dreams with moth-wings furled
Plays soft on her flute to the drowsy world.

Ida Rentoul Outhwaite


And though you should live in a palace of gold, or sleep in a dried up ditch,
You could never be as poor as the fairies are, and never as rich.

Rose Fyleman

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap
And white owl's feather!

William Allingham

Royalty Free Image Compliments of The Graphics Fairy Website

Come Sippa Cuppa

Come sippa cuppa tea with me

From dainty vessels on saucers wee.
And then I'll take you on my knee,
And tell you a tale of the things that be.

My potion will give you sight to see,
The world I know across the lee.
Where yonder live a folk so free.
Brimming with laughter, guile and glee.

There be  a lass - eyes green  as the sea,
Who holds in her hand the heart of me.
And  then there's a lad, stout as a tree
Who comes and goes at the blink of an e'.

They're busy and quick as a bumblebee.

Carla J. Nelson


Down where the ferns,

Grow wild and free,
A fairy showed
These things to me.

Secret mazes
Through tow'ring fronds,

That lead to vaults
Of fairy wands.

Carla J. Nelson

Winter Fairy Vigil

Deep inside the frozen earth,
A vigil fairies keep.
Watching over dormant roots,
And baby seeds - asleep.

Guarding every flower and vine,
Each trusting herb at rest.
Keeping Wintry ills at bay.
Fending off mouse and pest.

While frigid winds howl up top,
Their home is snug and tight.
Tunnels sealed to bar the cold,
Chambers lit by fairy light.

Cozy, happy and content,
They alternate work and play,
Until the Ides of March blow in,
Sending Winter on his way.

Carla J. Nelson


A Fairy Breakfast

Something drove me to the garden.
I didn't want to go.
The dawn was barely breaking.
I'd only slept so-so!

Through bleary eyes I looked about.
What was there here to see?
Why, could that be a fairy boy?
Yes!  Plain as plain could be!

You ask what was he doing there?
You may not think it's true!
He was sitting midst the plant leaves,
Sipping anise hyssop dew.

Carla J. Nelson


Observing The Vernal Equinox

On this day, if you be good.
Do this thing that all folks should.
Take yourself into the wood.
And leave the fairies milk and food.

Carla J. Nelson

Prairie Grasses and Wildflowers - Pilgrim Ranch - Cottonwood Falls, Kansas

Native plants and grasses,
Abound across the prairies.
Delighting all the human folk.
And elusive little fairies.

Carla J. Nelson


The poems included inside this box were written by
Marjorie Kahl Lawrence

They are featured in her book, Shining Wings, published in 1959.
At that time, she was living in Mulberry, Indiana,
and teaching first grade in Dayton, Indiana
She spent the rest of her life in Mulberry.
Her bio in the book says she was born in Bryant, Indiana
but does not give a date.  She was married to the
Reverend Harvey S. Lawrence in 1941. 
I couldn't readily find a date of death but I know she
passed away many years ago.


The fairies washed their panties
And hung them up to dry.
Who else could wear
So small a pair?

I'm sure not you nor I.

They're made of finest satin
And rimmed with yellow lace,
That the fairies hung
The leaves among
In this secluded place.

And if I hadn't spied them
I never would have known
What fairies wore
(And never tore)
Beneath a gossamer gown.



Have you heard of the fairy Pennybright?
On wings of glinting gold,
Her pockets as bulging full of flecks
Of copper as they can hold.

She seeks till she finds a child asleep,
A child who is full of fun,
One fit to romp with the fairy folk
At the rising of the sun;

Then she hovers lightly over him,
Giving her pockets a shake,
And sprinkles his face with a little shower
Of shining copper flakes.

And there they stick, on the bridge of his nose
And over his small cheeks sown
So that all who see may forever know
That he is Pennybright's own.


Fishing Nets

The spider is a brownie
Just as wise as he can be
Working for his living
As anyone can see.

Watch him as he climbs a stem
Then drops without a sound
And see the silver cord he leaves
Behind him to the ground.

With these he weaves the fishing nets
The fairies use for fishing
To catch the funny little dreams
People are always wishing.

They take them home and cut them up
For dresses for a ball
Because to use for everyday
They'd never wear at all.


White Magic

The fairies know white magic,
And they do the sweetest things.
They loosen flowers from their stems
And make the petals wings;
They turn them loose against the sky
And call their name "a butterfly."

They catch a little helpless bug
That's crying in the dark;
They pin a light upon his tail
And take him to the park.
They turn him loose against the sky
And call his name "a firefly."

I wish I knew white magic
Like all the fairies do.
Then I would make such clever things
And quite confounding, too.
But no!  I needn't even try
For everything would go awry:
Equip a bug with a magneto
And find I'd made me "a mosquito."


To A Very Little Maid

She has a little elfin face
And little elfin ways.
Her toes were made to dance upon
Within a leafy glade.

Her eyes were made to swift beguile,
Her hair to toss in glee;
Her hands are tiny pixie hands
That hold the heart of me.

Sometimes her ways are solemn ways
But soon I know will show
That elfin bent to mischief
Within her eyes aglow.

I wonder if she see two worlds.
I wonder if she knows
That heavy-footed grownups long
To follow where she goes.

When I have some time to squander.

Here's the type of thing I ponder.
Does absence make the heart grow fonder?
Does absence cause the heart to wander?

Carla J. Nelson
Virginia Bluebells Above - A Haven For Elusive Little Fairy Folk!

The Bluebell Fairies

When all is dark and quiet,
And nobody's about,
'Tis then the bluebell fairies
Come dancing softly out!

They first peep from the bluebells
To see that no one's there---
At us they might be frightened;
They don't mind Mr. Hare!

They tell him elfin stories
Of wonder and delight,
And creep, when morning wakens,
Back in the bluebells bright.

From:  Mother Nature Stories
Copyight 1908 by Howard E. Altemus
The White-Footed Deer
By William Cullen Bryant

It was a hundred years ago,
When, by the woodland ways,
The traveller saw the wild deer drink,
Or crop the birchen sprays
Beneath a hill, whose rocky side
O'erbrowed a grassy mead,
And fenced a cottage from the wind,
A deer was wont to feed.
She only came when on the cliffs
The evening moonlight lay,
And no man knew the secret haunts
n which she walked by day.
White were her feet, her forehead showed
A spot of silvery white,
That seemed to glimmer like a star
In autumn's hazy night.
And here, when sang the whippoorwill,
She cropped the sprouting leaves,
And here her rustling steps were heard
On still October eves.
But when the broad midsummer moon
Rose o'er that grassy lawn
Beside the silver-footed deer
There grazed a spotted fawn.
The cottage dame forbade her son
To aim the rifle here;
'It were a sin,' she said, 'to harm
Or fright that friendly deer.
'This spot has been my pleasant home
Ten peaceful years and more;
And ever, when the moonlight shines,
She feeds before our door.'
The red men say that here she walked
A thousand moons ago;
They never raise the war-whoop here,
And never twang the bow.
'I love to watch her as she feeds,
And think that all is well
While such a gentle creature haunts
The place in which we dwell.'
The youth obeyed, and sought for game
In forests far away,
Where, deep in silence and in moss,
The ancient woodland lay.
But once, in autumn's golden time,
He ranged the wild in vain,
Nor roused the pheasant nor the deer,
And wandered home again.
The crescent moon and crimson eve
Shone with a mingling light;
The deer, upon the grassy mead,
Was feeding full in sight.
He raised the rifle to his eye,
And from the cliffs around
A sudden echo, shrill and sharp,
Gave back its deadly sound.
Away into the neighbouring wood
The startled creature flew,
And crimson drops at morning lay
Amid the glimmering dew.
Next evening shone the waxing moon
As sweetly as before;
The deer upon the grassy mead
Was seen again no more.
But ere that crescent moon was old,
By night the red men came,
And burnt the cottage to the ground,
And slew the youth and dame.
Now woods have overgrown the mead,
And hid the cliffs from sight;
There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon,
And prowls the fox at night.

The fairies devised
A pretty bouquet,
Of tansy and mint flowers
To brighten my day.
Yellow for the sun
And blue for the skies.
Left on my doorstep
What a lovely surprise.

Carla J. Nelson

The Kingdom of SeldomSeen

In the forest, near the green,
There is The Kingdom SeldomSeen,
In the stillness of the night,
As the night bird takes its flight
In the twinkling of an eye,
Brilliant as the fire fly,
Comes the glory of the hour,
Beneath the shelter of the flower,
Dancing wings and whispered song,
Between the sunset and the dawn.

From the mist the fairies rise,
And take to dancing in the skies,
Above my garden I can see them,
In my heart I wish to be them,
Floating gentle on the breeze,
Light as air above the trees,
Their joyous laughter echoes still.
Beyond the woodlands on the hill,
The breaking morning calls them home,
I ponder as I sit alone,
Somewhere in the forest deep,
The secret place where fairies sleep.

Copyright - Sandy Nickell
Nature's Fashion Show

Mother Nature sent the word,
Through asphalt weary towns.
Come into the countryside,
And see my summer gowns.

I hear Jack Frost is on his way.
It won't be long before they're gone.
Come see their beauties while they last.
You can even take some home.

All my dresses shimmer so
With every shade of green.
And each was trimmed by fairy hands,
Like nothing you have seen.

Some have borders of Queen Anne's Lace
And polka dots of chicory - blue.
And some have mounds of bouncing bet

And puffs of clover tipped with dew.

Black-eyed Susans stare in awe.
Stately coneflowers join the fun.
And butterflies come every day,
To kiss each flower, one by one.

Just outside the city line,
There's such splendor to behold.
Come see my end-of-summer frocks,
Before the winds turn cold.

Copyright:  Carla J. Nelson

Fairy And Child
By Eugene Field

Oh, listen, little Dear-My-Soul,
To the fairy voices calling,
For the moon is high in the misty sky
And the honey dew is falling;
To the midnight feast in the clover bloom
The bluebells are a-ringing,
And it's "Come away to the land of fay"
That the katydid is singing. . . . . . .
A Christmas Party
By Carolyn Sherwin Bailey
On Christmas Eve, would you believe,
The Forest gave a party.
She called the little squirrels in,
And rabbits, fat and hearty.
She called the bear who slumbered there,
Until he heard the talking.
And all the little woodchucks came,
In couples neatly walking.
She hung a tree for all to see
With frosty chains and ponpons.

She spread a feast, for scores at least,
With nuts and carrot bonbons.
She lit the skies to charm their eyes,
With many Christmas tapers.
She spread the ground with snowy rugs,
To help their merry capers.
They clapped their paws
And joined their claws,
And danced in dizzy measure.
And Santa Claus drove home that way,
And dropped them each a treasure.
He gave the bear a lion's share,
Of sweets and Christmas candy.
The rabbits, bows and no one knows,
How fine they felt and spandy.
Each squirrel found pecans, a pound.
The woodchucks - corn and clover.
And Santa stayed to watch a while.
Until the fun was over.
On Christmas Eve,
Would you believe?
And yet I think it's shocking.
Not one of all the guests that came.
Could hang a Christmas stocking.

The Assembling Of The Fays

They come from beds of lichen green
They creep from the mullein's velvet screen;
Some on the backs of beetles fly
From the silver tops of the moon-touched trees,
Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high,
And rocked about in the evening breeze;
And now they throng the moonlight glade,
Above---below---on every side,
Their little minim forms arranged,
In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride.

Joseph Rodman Drake
I took a look
In a mossy nook
And, oh, what did I see.
A fairy boy - all a-joy,
Admiring a mushroom tree.

Carla J Nelson

Beyond this portal
Enchantment is found.
There's nothing to fear.
In realms underground.


Come away with me
To Fairyland
My human friend.
I promise glee
And such sights to see,
You'll be wishing
It would never end.

Carla J Nelson
Grandfather says that sometimes,
When stars are twinkling and
A new moon shines, there come times,
When folks see fairy-land.

So when there's next a new moon,
I mean to watch all night!
Grandfather says a blue moon
Is best for fairy light.

And in a peach-bloom, maybe,
If I look I shall see
A little fairy baby
No bigger than a bee!

Evaleen Stein

The Language of Flowers
By James Gates Percival
In Eastern lands they talk in flow'rs
And they tell in a garland their loves and cares;

Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowr's,
On its leaves a mystic language bears.
The rose is a sign of joy and love,
Young blushing love in its earliest dawn,
And the mildness that suits the gentle dove,
From the myrtle's snowy flow'rs is drawn.
Innocence gleams in the lily's bell,
Pure as the heart in its native heaven.
Fame's bright star and glory's swell
By the glossy leaf of the bay are given.
The silent, soft and humble heart,
In the violet's hidden sweetness breathes,
And the tender soul that cannot part,
In a twine of evergreen fondly wreathes.
The cypress that daily shades the grave,
Is sorrow that moans her bitter lot,
And faith that a thousand ills can brave,
Speaks in thy blue leaves "forget-me-not".
Then gather a wreath from the garden bowers,
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers.

If you have a special garden
Where flowers and herbs abound
Than take a pinch of fairy dust
And sprinkle it around.

The fairies will take notice
And at the end of day
They'll tiptoe out upon the grass
And dance the night away.

Carla J. Nelson - Copyright
Please Note:  All poems & picture
 here are my own - Carla J. Nelson - and
 copyrighted, unless otherwise noted.
Please contact me to obtain
permission for any use of this material.