This is the way the fairies sing: They all stand round in a shining ring On quiet nights when the moon is high, And lift their faces up to the sky. They read the music out of the stars, There aren't any notes and there aren't any bars.

And sweet their song as the clover flower, And soft it is as a summer shower, And gay as leaves that the June airs shake, And sad as the mist on an autumn lake. None shall light on a lovelier thing Than the magical song that the fairies sing.

This is the way the fairies dance: They point their toes and they leap and prance Over and under and round and round, Now in the air and now on the ground, In a shimmering, glimmering moon-lit maze To a wonderful music that nobody plays.

And swift their dance as the coming of spring, And light as the touch of a butterfly's wing, And strange as the gleams in a stormy sky And changing-bright as the peacock's dye. Oh, lucky are you if you get the chance To learn the way that the fairies dance.

~Rose Fyleman

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