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Dream Fairy
A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her hand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.
And then it dreams of pleasant things,
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit,
And bow their branches at a wish.
By Thomas Hood
Thomas Hood was born on 23 May 1799 in London, England. He became a poet and a fiction writer. Thomas Hood passed on at 45 years of age on 3 May 1845 in London, England.
A little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots upon her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
She has a little silver wand,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her hand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.
And then it dreams of pleasant things,
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit,
And bow their branches at a wish.
By Thomas Hood
Thomas Hood was born on 23 May 1799 in London, England. He became a poet and a fiction writer. Thomas Hood passed on at 45 years of age on 3 May 1845 in London, England.
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And as the seasons come and go,
here’s something you might like to know.
There are fairies everywhere:
under bushes, in the air,
playing games just like you play,
singing through their busy day.
So listen, touch, and look around -
in the air and on the ground.
And if you watch all nature’s things,
you might just see a fairy’s wings.
-Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetry” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairies are gifters. They love to give and receive small objects, often shiny ones, such as brightly colored stones, gems, seashells, broken glass, beads, baubles, marbles, and bits of metal (other than iron). They will also make objects crafted from nature, such as a bowl made from an acorn top, to give as a gift.
Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done
Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun?
-Rose Fyleman (Rose Amy Fyleman (1877 - 1957))
Clarissa: Why was the fairy flying erratically?
Letitia: She had a nonstop-case of the giggles!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Laughter And Laughing” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“I really love being human. But some days I really wish I could be a fairy.” -Greta (at 4 years of age)
When used as a noun, ‘fairies’ means ‘enchanted ones.’ Fairies are typically small creatures with human-like appearances, existing in a close mysterious association with the natural world and living in partially-hidden realms within it.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Nature and Wildlife” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“The Realm of Fairy is a strange shadow land, lying just beyond the fields we know.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Geography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Hansel: What did the fairy say to the caterpillar?
Gretel: You’ll be a beautiful butterfly soon!
“A fairy is a tiny, sparkly person with wings.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966)
here’s something you might like to know.
There are fairies everywhere:
under bushes, in the air,
playing games just like you play,
singing through their busy day.
So listen, touch, and look around -
in the air and on the ground.
And if you watch all nature’s things,
you might just see a fairy’s wings.
-Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetry” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairies are gifters. They love to give and receive small objects, often shiny ones, such as brightly colored stones, gems, seashells, broken glass, beads, baubles, marbles, and bits of metal (other than iron). They will also make objects crafted from nature, such as a bowl made from an acorn top, to give as a gift.
Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done
Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun?
-Rose Fyleman (Rose Amy Fyleman (1877 - 1957))
Clarissa: Why was the fairy flying erratically?
Letitia: She had a nonstop-case of the giggles!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Laughter And Laughing” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“I really love being human. But some days I really wish I could be a fairy.” -Greta (at 4 years of age)
When used as a noun, ‘fairies’ means ‘enchanted ones.’ Fairies are typically small creatures with human-like appearances, existing in a close mysterious association with the natural world and living in partially-hidden realms within it.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Nature and Wildlife” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“The Realm of Fairy is a strange shadow land, lying just beyond the fields we know.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Geography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Hansel: What did the fairy say to the caterpillar?
Gretel: You’ll be a beautiful butterfly soon!
“A fairy is a tiny, sparkly person with wings.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966)
Fairies
They don’t believe in fairies,
Those old folk wide and staid,
They’ve never caught the glitter
Of their wings in forest shade.
For them the bush is just a place
Of timber, cows, and corn,
They’ve never been up our creek
On a cool November morn.
From mossy banks all dotted
With violets breaking through,
Beneath the frondled maidenhair
Their shy eyes peep at you.
They sleep ‘neath tasseled tea-trees,
The drowsy Summer day,
Where tiny crimson love-birds
Around them dart and play.
The dew-drenched nights of Summer,
When gum-trees are aflower,
In foamy waves of sweetness
Bring round the fairies’ hour.
This is the time of frolic,
When they go floating high,
On wispy shreds of river mist,
Across the shining sky.
What! Don’t believe in fairies!
When they’re round you everywhere!
See them - who needs to see them?
You simply know they’re there.
By Alice Guerin Crist (1876 - 1941)
They don’t believe in fairies,
Those old folk wide and staid,
They’ve never caught the glitter
Of their wings in forest shade.
For them the bush is just a place
Of timber, cows, and corn,
They’ve never been up our creek
On a cool November morn.
From mossy banks all dotted
With violets breaking through,
Beneath the frondled maidenhair
Their shy eyes peep at you.
They sleep ‘neath tasseled tea-trees,
The drowsy Summer day,
Where tiny crimson love-birds
Around them dart and play.
The dew-drenched nights of Summer,
When gum-trees are aflower,
In foamy waves of sweetness
Bring round the fairies’ hour.
This is the time of frolic,
When they go floating high,
On wispy shreds of river mist,
Across the shining sky.
What! Don’t believe in fairies!
When they’re round you everywhere!
See them - who needs to see them?
You simply know they’re there.
By Alice Guerin Crist (1876 - 1941)
“No child but must remember laying his head in the grass, staring into the infinitesimal forest and seeing it grow populous with fairy armies.” -Robert Louis Stevenson (Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson (1850 -1894)): “Essays in the Art of Writing” (1905)
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 (1888 - 1960)
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 (1888 - 1960)
In the in-between times
when day fades into night
or Spring melts into Summer
and at the in-between places
where paths converge
a veil is parted
between the Worlds
and One may enter
The Otherworld
the world of Faery
but use much caution
Dear One!
for you have entered
The Faery Crossing
and none return unchanged.
-Author Unknown
The broader term ‘fairy folk’ or ‘faery folk’ can be used in the sense of encompassing many different types of enchanted creatures, including leprechauns, pixies, trolls, sprites, goblins, elves, imps, dwarves, changelings, brownies, and even unicorns.
Marcy: What is a fairy that cannot fly called?
Marcia: A groundling.
“You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl.” -J. M. Barrie (James Matthew Barrie (1860 - 1937)): “Peter Pan” (1928), act I
Fairy folk a-listening
Hear the seed sprout in the spring,
And for music to their dance
Hear the hedgerows wake from trance,
Sap that trembles into buds
Sending little rhythmic floods
Of fairy sound in fairy ears.
-George Eliot (pseudonym of Mary Anne Evans, possibly also known as Marian Evans Cross (1819 - 1880))
“Few humans see fairies or hear their music, but many find fairy rings of dark grass, scattered with toadstools, left by their dancing feet.” -Judy Allen
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Dance And Dancing Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
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 (Rose Amy Fyleman (1877 - 1957))
The Lonesomest Fairy
There’s a dewdrop shining bright
On the grass by the sun undried,
It’s a tear that fell in the night
When the lonesomest fairy cried.
By Mary Carolyn Davies (1888 - 1940)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Loneliness And Solitude Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairies have to be one thing or the other because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.” -J. M. Barrie (James Matthew Barrie (1860 - 1937))
Bernard: Why don’t fairies ever lie?
Abner: Because they would lose their sparkle.
Soft moss a downy pillow makes
And green leaves spread a tent,
Where Faerie folk may rest and sleep
Until their night is spent.
The bluebird sings a lullaby;
The firefly gives a light:
The twinkling stars are candles bright,
Sleep, Faeries all, Good Night.
-Elizabeth T. Dillingham (Elizabeth Thompson ‘Lizzie’ Dillingham (1880 - 1926)): “A Faery Song”
Rusty: How do fairies communicate silently?
Russell: With sparkles and twinkles.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About The Spoken Word And Speaking” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“I’ve always thought fairies are like mushrooms, you trip over them when you’re not thinking about them, but they’re hard to spot when you’re searching for them.” -Jo Walton
Priscilla: Why can’t fairies drive cars?
Melissa: Because their tiny feet can’t reach the pedals.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Vehicles And Driving Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882): “The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson” (1866), Volume 1, page 8, ‘Essays,’ ‘History’
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads,
When snow lies on the hills,
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds,
And crystallized their rills?
-Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797 - 1839)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Questions And Queries Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
when day fades into night
or Spring melts into Summer
and at the in-between places
where paths converge
a veil is parted
between the Worlds
and One may enter
The Otherworld
the world of Faery
but use much caution
Dear One!
for you have entered
The Faery Crossing
and none return unchanged.
-Author Unknown
The broader term ‘fairy folk’ or ‘faery folk’ can be used in the sense of encompassing many different types of enchanted creatures, including leprechauns, pixies, trolls, sprites, goblins, elves, imps, dwarves, changelings, brownies, and even unicorns.
Marcy: What is a fairy that cannot fly called?
Marcia: A groundling.
“You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies. And now when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy or girl.” -J. M. Barrie (James Matthew Barrie (1860 - 1937)): “Peter Pan” (1928), act I
Fairy folk a-listening
Hear the seed sprout in the spring,
And for music to their dance
Hear the hedgerows wake from trance,
Sap that trembles into buds
Sending little rhythmic floods
Of fairy sound in fairy ears.
-George Eliot (pseudonym of Mary Anne Evans, possibly also known as Marian Evans Cross (1819 - 1880))
“Few humans see fairies or hear their music, but many find fairy rings of dark grass, scattered with toadstools, left by their dancing feet.” -Judy Allen
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Dance And Dancing Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
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 (Rose Amy Fyleman (1877 - 1957))
The Lonesomest Fairy
There’s a dewdrop shining bright
On the grass by the sun undried,
It’s a tear that fell in the night
When the lonesomest fairy cried.
By Mary Carolyn Davies (1888 - 1940)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Loneliness And Solitude Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairies have to be one thing or the other because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.” -J. M. Barrie (James Matthew Barrie (1860 - 1937))
Bernard: Why don’t fairies ever lie?
Abner: Because they would lose their sparkle.
Soft moss a downy pillow makes
And green leaves spread a tent,
Where Faerie folk may rest and sleep
Until their night is spent.
The bluebird sings a lullaby;
The firefly gives a light:
The twinkling stars are candles bright,
Sleep, Faeries all, Good Night.
-Elizabeth T. Dillingham (Elizabeth Thompson ‘Lizzie’ Dillingham (1880 - 1926)): “A Faery Song”
Rusty: How do fairies communicate silently?
Russell: With sparkles and twinkles.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About The Spoken Word And Speaking” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“I’ve always thought fairies are like mushrooms, you trip over them when you’re not thinking about them, but they’re hard to spot when you’re searching for them.” -Jo Walton
Priscilla: Why can’t fairies drive cars?
Melissa: Because their tiny feet can’t reach the pedals.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Vehicles And Driving Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882): “The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson” (1866), Volume 1, page 8, ‘Essays,’ ‘History’
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads,
When snow lies on the hills,
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds,
And crystallized their rills?
-Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797 - 1839)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Questions And Queries Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
When I sound the fairy call,
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry, Take a cherry
Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder
Mine are sweeter, For the eater
When the dews fall. And you’ll be fairies all.
-Robert Graves (1895 - 1985): “Cherry-Time” (1918), ’Fairies and Fusiliers’
“There is, indeed, much in nature that we do not yet half enjoy, because we shut our avenues of sensation and feeling. We are satisfied with the matter of fact, and look not for the spirit of fact which is above it. If we opened our minds to enjoyment, we might find tranquil pleasures spread about us on every side. We might live with the angels that visit us on every sunbeam, and sit with the fairies who wait on every flower.” -Samuel Smiles (1812 - 1904): “Thrift” (1875)
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 (1824 - 1889): “Poems” (1870), page 30, ‘The Fairies’
“. . . here are the fairies skipping and dancing around to the music of the blue-bells.” -A. Frederick Collins
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Flowering Plants And Flowers Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
A Few Fairies And Faeries Facts
- Fairies are capable of serious and silly mischief.
- Fairies dance in rings.
- Fairies have wings that enable them to fly.
- Fairies live in small hills called mounds and in other places.
- People who are gifted with Faery Sight can see fairies.
- Cats do not like fairies.
- Fairies can appear and disappear at will.
- Fairies do not like to have their names known.
- Fairies can also be spelled faeries.
- Fairies look after nature and animals.
“It’s easy to believe in magic when you’re young. Anything you couldn’t explain was magic then. It didn’t matter if it was science or a fairy tale. Electricity and elves were both infinitely mysterious and equally possible - elves probably more so.” -Charles de Lint (born 1951)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Magic And Sleight Of Hand Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
When the winds of March are wakening the crocuses and crickets,
Did you ever find a fairy near some budding little thickets, . . .
And when she sees you creeping up to get a closer peek
She tumbles through the daffodils, a playing hide and seek.
-Marjorie Barrows (Ruth Marjorie Wescott Barrows (1892 - 1983))
“Nothing can be truer than fairy wisdom . . . It is true as sunbeams . . .” -Douglas Jerrold (Douglas William Jerrold (1803 - 1857)): ‘Our Honeymoon: An Apology and an Explanation’ published in “Punch” (1853), Volume xxiv
The little Plumpuppets are fairies of beds;
They have nothing to do but watch sleepy heads;
They turn down the sheets and they tuck you in tight,
And dance on your pillow to wish you good night!
-Christopher Morley (Christopher Darlington Morley (1890 - 1957)): “The Rocking Horse” (1919), ‘The Plumpuppets’
Fairies strongly dislike the smell and physical sensation they receive from the metal iron, and so they avoid it. The origin of the practice of hanging a horseshoe over or near a door may have been to keep out fairies. However, while it may keep out the mischievous and malicious fairies, it may also keep out helpful and benevolent ones. The use of iron and steel to make nails, screws, and other parts of buildings, fences, and other structures may explain why fairies are rarely encountered in modern times.
The tangles people get in their hair at night and tangled electrical cords are from mischievous fairies playing pranks on them.
We the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
-Thomas Randolph (1605 - 1635): “Fairy Song”
“Raindrops are like fairy whispers.” -Author Unknown
Well-known fairies include Tinker Bell, Fairy Godmother, Blue Fairy, and Tooth Fairy. Can you name some others?
“Each fairy breath of Summer, as it blows with loveliness, inspires the blushing rose.” -Author Unknown
“Any man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind.” -Author Unknown: Irish saying
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Hats And Headwear” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Buttercups in the sunshine look like little cups of gold.
Perhaps the Faeries come to drink the raindrops that they hold.
-Elizabeth T. Dillingham (Elizabeth Thompson ‘Lizzie’ Dillingham (1880 - 1926)): “A Faery Song”
Gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall,
Cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry, Take a cherry
Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder
Mine are sweeter, For the eater
When the dews fall. And you’ll be fairies all.
-Robert Graves (1895 - 1985): “Cherry-Time” (1918), ’Fairies and Fusiliers’
“There is, indeed, much in nature that we do not yet half enjoy, because we shut our avenues of sensation and feeling. We are satisfied with the matter of fact, and look not for the spirit of fact which is above it. If we opened our minds to enjoyment, we might find tranquil pleasures spread about us on every side. We might live with the angels that visit us on every sunbeam, and sit with the fairies who wait on every flower.” -Samuel Smiles (1812 - 1904): “Thrift” (1875)
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 (1824 - 1889): “Poems” (1870), page 30, ‘The Fairies’
“. . . here are the fairies skipping and dancing around to the music of the blue-bells.” -A. Frederick Collins
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Flowering Plants And Flowers Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
A Few Fairies And Faeries Facts
- Fairies are capable of serious and silly mischief.
- Fairies dance in rings.
- Fairies have wings that enable them to fly.
- Fairies live in small hills called mounds and in other places.
- People who are gifted with Faery Sight can see fairies.
- Cats do not like fairies.
- Fairies can appear and disappear at will.
- Fairies do not like to have their names known.
- Fairies can also be spelled faeries.
- Fairies look after nature and animals.
“It’s easy to believe in magic when you’re young. Anything you couldn’t explain was magic then. It didn’t matter if it was science or a fairy tale. Electricity and elves were both infinitely mysterious and equally possible - elves probably more so.” -Charles de Lint (born 1951)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Magic And Sleight Of Hand Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
When the winds of March are wakening the crocuses and crickets,
Did you ever find a fairy near some budding little thickets, . . .
And when she sees you creeping up to get a closer peek
She tumbles through the daffodils, a playing hide and seek.
-Marjorie Barrows (Ruth Marjorie Wescott Barrows (1892 - 1983))
“Nothing can be truer than fairy wisdom . . . It is true as sunbeams . . .” -Douglas Jerrold (Douglas William Jerrold (1803 - 1857)): ‘Our Honeymoon: An Apology and an Explanation’ published in “Punch” (1853), Volume xxiv
The little Plumpuppets are fairies of beds;
They have nothing to do but watch sleepy heads;
They turn down the sheets and they tuck you in tight,
And dance on your pillow to wish you good night!
-Christopher Morley (Christopher Darlington Morley (1890 - 1957)): “The Rocking Horse” (1919), ‘The Plumpuppets’
Fairies strongly dislike the smell and physical sensation they receive from the metal iron, and so they avoid it. The origin of the practice of hanging a horseshoe over or near a door may have been to keep out fairies. However, while it may keep out the mischievous and malicious fairies, it may also keep out helpful and benevolent ones. The use of iron and steel to make nails, screws, and other parts of buildings, fences, and other structures may explain why fairies are rarely encountered in modern times.
The tangles people get in their hair at night and tangled electrical cords are from mischievous fairies playing pranks on them.
We the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
-Thomas Randolph (1605 - 1635): “Fairy Song”
“Raindrops are like fairy whispers.” -Author Unknown
Well-known fairies include Tinker Bell, Fairy Godmother, Blue Fairy, and Tooth Fairy. Can you name some others?
“Each fairy breath of Summer, as it blows with loveliness, inspires the blushing rose.” -Author Unknown
“Any man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind.” -Author Unknown: Irish saying
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Hats And Headwear” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Buttercups in the sunshine look like little cups of gold.
Perhaps the Faeries come to drink the raindrops that they hold.
-Elizabeth T. Dillingham (Elizabeth Thompson ‘Lizzie’ Dillingham (1880 - 1926)): “A Faery Song”
Riddle: I carry a wand to make wishes come true - who am I?
Solution: I am a fairy.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Puzzles And Riddles” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Nigel: How do fairies go from place to place?
Eugene: They wing it!
“Anno 1670, not far from Cirencester, was an apparition; being demanded whether a good spirit or a bad? returned no answer, but disappeared with a curious perfume and a most melodious twang. Mr W. Lilly believes it was a fairy.” -John Aubrey
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read History Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Are those the magic fairy wands
glistening on the tree
or only Winter icicles that I see?
-Author Unknown
Objects commonly associated with fairies are magic wands, fairy dust, tiny articles of clothes similar to dolls’ clothing, crystals, and other tiny, mysterious objects, all meticulously crafted, for the fairy folk are able to work with their skilled hands and also with fairy magic.
Sylvia: Why do fairies go to libraries?
Cynthia: Because that is where the fairytale storybooks are!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of this article, or click or tap on these words to visit the Library Page.
First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
-William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616): “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” (1595 - 1596), Act 5, scene 1, lines 359 and 360
Fairies dress in all-natural fairy-crafted clothes, made from such things as flower petals, leaves, and tree bark. This helps them blend in with the natural world, whether in woods or in gardens, so that for us to see them, we must look at the world with greater interest than we usually do.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Attire And Accessories Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Deep within the Winter forest among the snowdrift wide
You can find a magic place where all the fairies hide . . .
-Author Unknown
Fairies are believed by some to have a caretaker role in the natural world. They help bring in the new season and see the old one out. They help baby birds that have fallen out of their nests find their way back to them. They move about, seen and unseen, smoothing the lives of plants and animals and rivers and lakes.
Garden Fairies
Garden fairies
Come at dawn
To bless the flowers
And then they’re gone.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Gardens And Gardening Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“‘You must first understand,’ said I, ‘where Fairyland is: it lies a little way farther than the farthest hill you can see. It lies, in fact, just beyond that hill. The frontiers of it are sometimes a little doubtful in any landscape, because the landscape is confused, but if on the extreme limits of the horizon you see a long line of hills bounding your view exactly, then you may be perfectly certain that on the other side of those hills is Fairyland. There are times of the day and of the weather when the sky over Fairyland can be clearly perceived, for it has a different color from any other kind of sky. That is where Fairyland is. It is not on an island, as some have pretended, still less is it under the earth - a ridiculous story, for there it is all dark.’” -Hilaire Belloc (Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc (1870 - 1953))
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 (born 1892 as Kathleen Brown)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Childhood And Children Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Hannah: Why do fairies like the night sky?
Susanna: Because it is full of twinkles.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Stars And Astronomy” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Sayings
- With a sprinkle of pixie dust and lots of laughter.
- Flittering wings work wonders.
- A sprinkle of laughter makes the moment magical!
- All that glitters, and is not gold, is fairy dust.
- Fairy friends are the best friends.
- With a sprig and a twig, it’s a Spring thing!
Can you think of other fairy sayings?
“Then clear on a flute of purest gold a sweet little fairy played. And wonderful fairy tales she told and marvelous music made.” -Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (1888 - 1960)
Dusty: Why do fairies not play hide and seek?
Dustin: Because sparkly wings are difficult to hide!
“Once upon a time, I thought faeries lived only in books, old folktales, and the past. That was before they burst upon my life as vibrant, luminous beings, permeating my art and my everyday existence, causing glorious havoc.” -Brian Froud
Vicky: Why did the fairy fly cross the road?
Victoria: To be sparkly on the other side!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Road Crossings” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“A rustle in the wind reminds us a fairy is near.” -Author Unknown
Did you ever hear
Of the frolic fairies dear?
They’re a blessed little race,
Peeping up in fancy’s face,
In the valley, on the hill,
By the fountain and the rill;
Laughing out between the leaves
That the loving summer weaves.
-Frances Sargent Osgood (born Frances Sargent Locke (1811 - 1850))
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Happiness Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairies with gossamer wings bring forth beauty, grace, and joyful things. Fairies of the earth are caretakers of our soil, water, and trees. They watch over beautiful creatures such as bears, bunnies, and bees.” -Molly Friedenfeld
This is MFOL! . . . it’s magic . . . it really is . . . well, almost . . .
Solution: I am a fairy.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Puzzles And Riddles” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Nigel: How do fairies go from place to place?
Eugene: They wing it!
“Anno 1670, not far from Cirencester, was an apparition; being demanded whether a good spirit or a bad? returned no answer, but disappeared with a curious perfume and a most melodious twang. Mr W. Lilly believes it was a fairy.” -John Aubrey
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read History Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Are those the magic fairy wands
glistening on the tree
or only Winter icicles that I see?
-Author Unknown
Objects commonly associated with fairies are magic wands, fairy dust, tiny articles of clothes similar to dolls’ clothing, crystals, and other tiny, mysterious objects, all meticulously crafted, for the fairy folk are able to work with their skilled hands and also with fairy magic.
Sylvia: Why do fairies go to libraries?
Cynthia: Because that is where the fairytale storybooks are!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of this article, or click or tap on these words to visit the Library Page.
First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
-William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616): “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” (1595 - 1596), Act 5, scene 1, lines 359 and 360
Fairies dress in all-natural fairy-crafted clothes, made from such things as flower petals, leaves, and tree bark. This helps them blend in with the natural world, whether in woods or in gardens, so that for us to see them, we must look at the world with greater interest than we usually do.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Attire And Accessories Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Deep within the Winter forest among the snowdrift wide
You can find a magic place where all the fairies hide . . .
-Author Unknown
Fairies are believed by some to have a caretaker role in the natural world. They help bring in the new season and see the old one out. They help baby birds that have fallen out of their nests find their way back to them. They move about, seen and unseen, smoothing the lives of plants and animals and rivers and lakes.
Garden Fairies
Garden fairies
Come at dawn
To bless the flowers
And then they’re gone.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Gardens And Gardening Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“‘You must first understand,’ said I, ‘where Fairyland is: it lies a little way farther than the farthest hill you can see. It lies, in fact, just beyond that hill. The frontiers of it are sometimes a little doubtful in any landscape, because the landscape is confused, but if on the extreme limits of the horizon you see a long line of hills bounding your view exactly, then you may be perfectly certain that on the other side of those hills is Fairyland. There are times of the day and of the weather when the sky over Fairyland can be clearly perceived, for it has a different color from any other kind of sky. That is where Fairyland is. It is not on an island, as some have pretended, still less is it under the earth - a ridiculous story, for there it is all dark.’” -Hilaire Belloc (Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc (1870 - 1953))
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 (born 1892 as Kathleen Brown)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Childhood And Children Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Hannah: Why do fairies like the night sky?
Susanna: Because it is full of twinkles.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Stars And Astronomy” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Sayings
- With a sprinkle of pixie dust and lots of laughter.
- Flittering wings work wonders.
- A sprinkle of laughter makes the moment magical!
- All that glitters, and is not gold, is fairy dust.
- Fairy friends are the best friends.
- With a sprig and a twig, it’s a Spring thing!
Can you think of other fairy sayings?
“Then clear on a flute of purest gold a sweet little fairy played. And wonderful fairy tales she told and marvelous music made.” -Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (1888 - 1960)
Dusty: Why do fairies not play hide and seek?
Dustin: Because sparkly wings are difficult to hide!
“Once upon a time, I thought faeries lived only in books, old folktales, and the past. That was before they burst upon my life as vibrant, luminous beings, permeating my art and my everyday existence, causing glorious havoc.” -Brian Froud
Vicky: Why did the fairy fly cross the road?
Victoria: To be sparkly on the other side!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Humor And Inspiration And Learning About Road Crossings” Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“A rustle in the wind reminds us a fairy is near.” -Author Unknown
Did you ever hear
Of the frolic fairies dear?
They’re a blessed little race,
Peeping up in fancy’s face,
In the valley, on the hill,
By the fountain and the rill;
Laughing out between the leaves
That the loving summer weaves.
-Frances Sargent Osgood (born Frances Sargent Locke (1811 - 1850))
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read Happiness Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairies with gossamer wings bring forth beauty, grace, and joyful things. Fairies of the earth are caretakers of our soil, water, and trees. They watch over beautiful creatures such as bears, bunnies, and bees.” -Molly Friedenfeld
This is MFOL! . . . it’s magic . . . it really is . . . well, almost . . .
- Published on
The Pumpkin Pirates
Once upon a time, Lucian the Greek was filled with a desire to see strange countries, and especially to discover whether there was any opposite shore to the ocean by which he lived.
So having purchased a vessel, he strengthened it for a voyage that he knew would no doubt be long and stormy. Then he chose fifty stout young fellows having the same love of adventure as himself, and next he hired the best captain that could be got for money, and put a store of provisions and water onboard.
All this being done, he set sail. For many days he and his companions voyaged on deep waters and in strange seas. At times the wind was fair and gentle, and at others it blew so hard that the sea rose in a terrible manner.
One day there came a violent whirlwind which twisted the ship about, and, lifting it into the air, carried it upward into the sky, until it reached the Moon. There Lucian and his comrades disembarked and visited the inhabitants of Moonland. They took part in a fierce battle between the Moon-folk, the Sun-folk, and an army of Vulture-horsemen; and, after many wonderful adventures, they departed from Moonland, and sailing through the sky, visited the Morning Star. Then the wind dropping, the ship settled once more upon the sea, and they sailed on the water.
One morning the wind began to blow vehemently, and they were driven by storm for days. On the third day they fell in with the Pumpkin Pirates. These were savages who were wont to sally forth from the islands that lay in the seas thereabouts, and plunder them that sailed by.
For ships they had large pumpkins, each being not less than ninety feet in length. These pumpkins they dried and afterward dug out all the inner part of them till they were quit hollow. For masts they had reeds, and for sails, in the place of canvas, pumpkin leaves.
These savages attacked Lucian’s vessels with two ships, or rather, two pumpkins and crews, and wounded many of his company. For stones they used pumpkin seeds, which were about the bigness of a large apple.
Lucian’s company fought for some time, without gaining the advantage, when about noon they saw coming toward them, to the rear of the Pumpkin Pirates, the Nut-Shell Sailors. These two tribes were at war with each other.
As soon as the Pumpkin Pirates saw the others approaching, they left off fighting Lucian’s crew, and prepared to give battle to the Nut-Shell Sailors. When Lucian saw this, he ordered the captain to set all sails, and they departed at full speed. But looking back he could see the Nut-Shell Sailors had the best of the battle, being superior in numbers, having five crews against the two of the Pumpkin Pirates, and also because their ships were stronger. As for their ships, they were the shells of nuts which had been split in half, each measuring fifteen fathoms or thereabouts.
As soon as the Pumpkin Pirates and the Nut-Shell Sailors were out of sight, Lucian set himself to dressing the wounds of his injured companions. And from that time on both Lucian and his crew wore their armor continually, not knowing whether another strange enemy might come upon them.
The End . . . For Now . . . We leave their further adventures to your imagination!
by Alfred J. Church: “A Tale from Lucian” (adapted)
Alfred John Church was born on 29 January 1829 in Richmond, Surrey, England (now Richmond, London, England). He became a scholar of the classics, a translator of Latin works into English, a school headmaster, a professor of Latin, and a re-teller of classics such as “Homer” into versions for children. Alfred John Church passed on at 83 years of age on 27 April 1912 in Richmond, Surrey, England.
Once upon a time, Lucian the Greek was filled with a desire to see strange countries, and especially to discover whether there was any opposite shore to the ocean by which he lived.
So having purchased a vessel, he strengthened it for a voyage that he knew would no doubt be long and stormy. Then he chose fifty stout young fellows having the same love of adventure as himself, and next he hired the best captain that could be got for money, and put a store of provisions and water onboard.
All this being done, he set sail. For many days he and his companions voyaged on deep waters and in strange seas. At times the wind was fair and gentle, and at others it blew so hard that the sea rose in a terrible manner.
One day there came a violent whirlwind which twisted the ship about, and, lifting it into the air, carried it upward into the sky, until it reached the Moon. There Lucian and his comrades disembarked and visited the inhabitants of Moonland. They took part in a fierce battle between the Moon-folk, the Sun-folk, and an army of Vulture-horsemen; and, after many wonderful adventures, they departed from Moonland, and sailing through the sky, visited the Morning Star. Then the wind dropping, the ship settled once more upon the sea, and they sailed on the water.
One morning the wind began to blow vehemently, and they were driven by storm for days. On the third day they fell in with the Pumpkin Pirates. These were savages who were wont to sally forth from the islands that lay in the seas thereabouts, and plunder them that sailed by.
For ships they had large pumpkins, each being not less than ninety feet in length. These pumpkins they dried and afterward dug out all the inner part of them till they were quit hollow. For masts they had reeds, and for sails, in the place of canvas, pumpkin leaves.
These savages attacked Lucian’s vessels with two ships, or rather, two pumpkins and crews, and wounded many of his company. For stones they used pumpkin seeds, which were about the bigness of a large apple.
Lucian’s company fought for some time, without gaining the advantage, when about noon they saw coming toward them, to the rear of the Pumpkin Pirates, the Nut-Shell Sailors. These two tribes were at war with each other.
As soon as the Pumpkin Pirates saw the others approaching, they left off fighting Lucian’s crew, and prepared to give battle to the Nut-Shell Sailors. When Lucian saw this, he ordered the captain to set all sails, and they departed at full speed. But looking back he could see the Nut-Shell Sailors had the best of the battle, being superior in numbers, having five crews against the two of the Pumpkin Pirates, and also because their ships were stronger. As for their ships, they were the shells of nuts which had been split in half, each measuring fifteen fathoms or thereabouts.
As soon as the Pumpkin Pirates and the Nut-Shell Sailors were out of sight, Lucian set himself to dressing the wounds of his injured companions. And from that time on both Lucian and his crew wore their armor continually, not knowing whether another strange enemy might come upon them.
The End . . . For Now . . . We leave their further adventures to your imagination!
by Alfred J. Church: “A Tale from Lucian” (adapted)
Alfred John Church was born on 29 January 1829 in Richmond, Surrey, England (now Richmond, London, England). He became a scholar of the classics, a translator of Latin works into English, a school headmaster, a professor of Latin, and a re-teller of classics such as “Homer” into versions for children. Alfred John Church passed on at 83 years of age on 27 April 1912 in Richmond, Surrey, England.
- Published on
The Water Lily
There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
“Child,” said his mother, “I don’t believe that there are any fairies. I never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child, and never mind the fairies.”
“Very well, mother,” said the boy.
“It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures,” said his mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. “Why, child, pictures can’t feed a body, pictures can’t clothe a body, and a log of wood is far better to burn and warm a body.”
“All that is quite true, mother,” said the boy.
“Then why do you keep looking at them, child?” but the boy could only say, “I don’t know, mother.”
“You don’t know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play.”
So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected there, down among the lilies.
And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, “I am sure there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could paint it, every one else would know it, too.”
But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing and said to the lily:
“You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a painter!”
As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest white.
“Child, are you happy?” she asked.
“No,” said the boy in a low voice, “because I want to paint and I cannot.”
“How do you know that you cannot?” asked the fairy.
“Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more.”
“But I will help you.”
“Oh,” said the boy. “Then I might succeed.”
“I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you,” said the fairy. “I know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I tell you. Do you promise to obey?”
“Spirit of a water lily!” said the boy, “I promise with all my heart.”
“Go home, then,” said the fairy, “and you will find a little key on the doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day. On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.”
“If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and that you shall become a truly great painter.”
“Can it be possible?” said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy stood trembled for joy.
“It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm,” said the fairy. “But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day will never fade till my promise is fulfilled.”
The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in his hand but the flower.
He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay trembling like liquid gold.
So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with his magic palette.
But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them. His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
“Shall I take back my gift?” she asked.
“Oh, no, no, no!” he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so much discouraged.
“If you still wish to go on working, take this ring,” said the fairy. “My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the charm.”
He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word - “Hope.”
Many more years passed. The young man’s mother died, and he went far, far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city. He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered, and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
“O wonderful fairy!” he cried, “how can I thank you for your magic gift? I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it.”
“My name,” replied the fairy, “is Perseverance.”
By Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow was born on 17 March 1820 in Boston, Lincolnshire, England. She became a poet, a children’s story writer, and a novelist. Jean Ingelow passed on at 77 years of age on 20 July 1897 in Kensington, London, England.
There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
“Child,” said his mother, “I don’t believe that there are any fairies. I never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child, and never mind the fairies.”
“Very well, mother,” said the boy.
“It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures,” said his mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. “Why, child, pictures can’t feed a body, pictures can’t clothe a body, and a log of wood is far better to burn and warm a body.”
“All that is quite true, mother,” said the boy.
“Then why do you keep looking at them, child?” but the boy could only say, “I don’t know, mother.”
“You don’t know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play.”
So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected there, down among the lilies.
And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, “I am sure there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could paint it, every one else would know it, too.”
But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing and said to the lily:
“You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a painter!”
As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest white.
“Child, are you happy?” she asked.
“No,” said the boy in a low voice, “because I want to paint and I cannot.”
“How do you know that you cannot?” asked the fairy.
“Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more.”
“But I will help you.”
“Oh,” said the boy. “Then I might succeed.”
“I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you,” said the fairy. “I know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I tell you. Do you promise to obey?”
“Spirit of a water lily!” said the boy, “I promise with all my heart.”
“Go home, then,” said the fairy, “and you will find a little key on the doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day. On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.”
“If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and that you shall become a truly great painter.”
“Can it be possible?” said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy stood trembled for joy.
“It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm,” said the fairy. “But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day will never fade till my promise is fulfilled.”
The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in his hand but the flower.
He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay trembling like liquid gold.
So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with his magic palette.
But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them. His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
“Shall I take back my gift?” she asked.
“Oh, no, no, no!” he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so much discouraged.
“If you still wish to go on working, take this ring,” said the fairy. “My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the charm.”
He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word - “Hope.”
Many more years passed. The young man’s mother died, and he went far, far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city. He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered, and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
“O wonderful fairy!” he cried, “how can I thank you for your magic gift? I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it.”
“My name,” replied the fairy, “is Perseverance.”
By Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow was born on 17 March 1820 in Boston, Lincolnshire, England. She became a poet, a children’s story writer, and a novelist. Jean Ingelow passed on at 77 years of age on 20 July 1897 in Kensington, London, England.
- Published on
No more powerful and alluring words have been devised by humankind than these four: “Once upon a time . . .”
Glen: What did Cinderella the Fish wear to the under-the-sea ball?
Gwen: Glass flippers.
Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you’re young at heart.
-Carolyn Leigh (1926 - 1983): “Young at Heart” (1954) song
Betsy: What is beautiful, gray, and wears glass slippers?
Betty: Cinderellephant!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Elephants” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Life is a fairy tale. But to see it, you must open your eyes.” -Olianna Port
Peter: Why couldn’t the three bears get into their house?
Paul: Somebody had put Goldie-Locks on the doors.
“A life lesson from a fairy tale: Never look back . . . if Cinderella had gone back to pick up her shoe, she would not have become a princess.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Past-Dwelling and Living in the Past” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy tales, though often untrue,
Teach good lads a thing or two.
-Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837)
“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!’ ‘No! No! No! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!’” -Author Unknown
The Three Little Pigs
There was a hungry wolf,
A-searching for his lunch,
He spotted three cute homes,
A-sitting in a bunch
The homes of three small pigs,
Of hay and bricks and sticks.
He tried to blow their houses down,
But ended in a fix.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetry” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“We are born princes and the civilizing process makes us frogs.” -Eric Berne
“Run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread man!” -Author Unknown
Amelia: What gives milk, goes ‘Moo!’ and makes all your wishes come true?
Amy: Your dairy godmother.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Cattle” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Cinderella’s slippers were originally made of fur, but the story was changed in the 1600’s by a translator, and her slippers became glass. “Hey, Cinderella, are you wearing bottles on your feet?” “Why, yes, I am. Thank you for noticing!”
“Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated.” -G. K. Chesterton (Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874 - 1936))
A tax auditor had just read the story of Cinderella to his four-year-old daughter for the first time. The little girl was fascinated by the story, especially the part where the pumpkin turned into a golden coach. ‘Daddy,’ she said. ‘When the pumpkin turned into a golden coach, would that be classified as income or a long-term capital gain?’
Vernon: What kind of story is “The Three Little Pigs”?
Vera: A ‘pigtail.’
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Pigs and Hogs” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“The lesson of fairy tales is clear: You should never hesitate to trade your cow for a handful of magic beans.” -Tom Robbins (Thomas Eugene ‘Tom’ Robbins (born 1932))
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Risks and Rewards” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Hansel: Why was Cinderella such an awful football player?
Gretel: Because she had a pumpkin for a coach, she was always running away from the ball, and she kept losing her shoe.
“You cannot live life and expect it to be an easy fairy tale. Even princesses in movies struggle to have a happy ending.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Adversities and Persevering” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Glen: What did Cinderella the Fish wear to the under-the-sea ball?
Gwen: Glass flippers.
Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you’re young at heart.
-Carolyn Leigh (1926 - 1983): “Young at Heart” (1954) song
Betsy: What is beautiful, gray, and wears glass slippers?
Betty: Cinderellephant!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Elephants” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Life is a fairy tale. But to see it, you must open your eyes.” -Olianna Port
Peter: Why couldn’t the three bears get into their house?
Paul: Somebody had put Goldie-Locks on the doors.
“A life lesson from a fairy tale: Never look back . . . if Cinderella had gone back to pick up her shoe, she would not have become a princess.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Past-Dwelling and Living in the Past” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy tales, though often untrue,
Teach good lads a thing or two.
-Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin (1799 - 1837)
“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!’ ‘No! No! No! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!’” -Author Unknown
The Three Little Pigs
There was a hungry wolf,
A-searching for his lunch,
He spotted three cute homes,
A-sitting in a bunch
The homes of three small pigs,
Of hay and bricks and sticks.
He tried to blow their houses down,
But ended in a fix.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetry” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“We are born princes and the civilizing process makes us frogs.” -Eric Berne
“Run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread man!” -Author Unknown
Amelia: What gives milk, goes ‘Moo!’ and makes all your wishes come true?
Amy: Your dairy godmother.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Cattle” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Cinderella’s slippers were originally made of fur, but the story was changed in the 1600’s by a translator, and her slippers became glass. “Hey, Cinderella, are you wearing bottles on your feet?” “Why, yes, I am. Thank you for noticing!”
“Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated.” -G. K. Chesterton (Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874 - 1936))
A tax auditor had just read the story of Cinderella to his four-year-old daughter for the first time. The little girl was fascinated by the story, especially the part where the pumpkin turned into a golden coach. ‘Daddy,’ she said. ‘When the pumpkin turned into a golden coach, would that be classified as income or a long-term capital gain?’
Vernon: What kind of story is “The Three Little Pigs”?
Vera: A ‘pigtail.’
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Pigs and Hogs” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“The lesson of fairy tales is clear: You should never hesitate to trade your cow for a handful of magic beans.” -Tom Robbins (Thomas Eugene ‘Tom’ Robbins (born 1932))
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Risks and Rewards” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Hansel: Why was Cinderella such an awful football player?
Gretel: Because she had a pumpkin for a coach, she was always running away from the ball, and she kept losing her shoe.
“You cannot live life and expect it to be an easy fairy tale. Even princesses in movies struggle to have a happy ending.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Adversities and Persevering” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Kissing the frog to get the prince is a waste of a perfectly good frog.” -Jim Benton
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Kisses and Kissing” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, but if you do, you could end up with warts and other awful things you will not want. So, if you are wise, you will not kiss frogs, and though you will not get your prince-turned-frog-turned-prince, maybe if you stand afar off and just blow a kiss to a frog, the frog might wonder what you are doing . . . which is still something.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “If You Believe in Fairy Tales”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Efforts and Benefits” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Erma: What did Cinderella say when the drugstore lost her photographs?
Myrna: “Someday my prints will come!”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Kisses and Kissing” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“They say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, but if you do, you could end up with warts and other awful things you will not want. So, if you are wise, you will not kiss frogs, and though you will not get your prince-turned-frog-turned-prince, maybe if you stand afar off and just blow a kiss to a frog, the frog might wonder what you are doing . . . which is still something.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “If You Believe in Fairy Tales”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Efforts and Benefits” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Erma: What did Cinderella say when the drugstore lost her photographs?
Myrna: “Someday my prints will come!”
How to Survive a Fairy Tale
Sound Advice.
If you should find yourself lost in a book,
Where certainly no one would think to look,
Follow these tips to keep yourself safe,
From witch, or from troll, or cold-blooded snake.
Be Helpful.
If someone should ask you for a helping hand,
Help without thinking, do not be grand.
Chances are, they will later come back,
To assist you from a confusing trap.
Listen.
If you’re given advice, listen or be doomed,
Even if it comes from an animal,
However degrading, I am sure you will find
It is highly preferable to stay alive.
Be Cunning.
While there are those who mean you no harm,
There are the people on the other arm,
Most would eat you without a regret,
So stay alert to keep safe from them.
Stay Safe.
Stick to the path,
Don’t open the door,
Keep away from that cottage,
Or we’ll see you no more.
Now You Are Wiser.
Follow these hints,
And you will be safe,
But beware if the rules you ignore and break.
Don’t say we didn’t warn you.
by Karissa E., from Spokane Valley, Washington, United States of America
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Wisdom and Advice” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Sound Advice.
If you should find yourself lost in a book,
Where certainly no one would think to look,
Follow these tips to keep yourself safe,
From witch, or from troll, or cold-blooded snake.
Be Helpful.
If someone should ask you for a helping hand,
Help without thinking, do not be grand.
Chances are, they will later come back,
To assist you from a confusing trap.
Listen.
If you’re given advice, listen or be doomed,
Even if it comes from an animal,
However degrading, I am sure you will find
It is highly preferable to stay alive.
Be Cunning.
While there are those who mean you no harm,
There are the people on the other arm,
Most would eat you without a regret,
So stay alert to keep safe from them.
Stay Safe.
Stick to the path,
Don’t open the door,
Keep away from that cottage,
Or we’ll see you no more.
Now You Are Wiser.
Follow these hints,
And you will be safe,
But beware if the rules you ignore and break.
Don’t say we didn’t warn you.
by Karissa E., from Spokane Valley, Washington, United States of America
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Wisdom and Advice” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“My favorite fairy tale is the one where the three creatures that grow on trees are scared of the Big Bad Wolf - you know, “The Three Little Figs!”” -Author Unknown
Jeremy: What grows on trees and is afraid of wolves?
Marjorie: The three little figs.
“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales.” -Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)
“Daddy,” a little girl asked her father, “do all fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time’?” “No, sweetheart,” he answered. “Some begin with ‘If I am elected . . .’”
Overheard: No one is too young or too old for fairy tales.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Age and Aging” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Goldilocks and the Three Bears: Once upon a time, there were three bears. A Mommy bear, a Daddy bear, and a Baby bear. One day they went for a walk. When they got back, Daddy bear asked, “Who’s been eating my porridge?” Baby bear asked tearfully, “And who’s been eating my porridge?” Finally, Mommy bear chimed in with, “Oh, stop this silliness - I haven’t made any porridge this morning as of yet.”
“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.” -Hans Christian Andersen (1805 - 1875): “The True Story of My Life” (1871)
Jeremy: What grows on trees and is afraid of wolves?
Marjorie: The three little figs.
“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales.” -Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)
“Daddy,” a little girl asked her father, “do all fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time’?” “No, sweetheart,” he answered. “Some begin with ‘If I am elected . . .’”
Overheard: No one is too young or too old for fairy tales.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Age and Aging” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Goldilocks and the Three Bears: Once upon a time, there were three bears. A Mommy bear, a Daddy bear, and a Baby bear. One day they went for a walk. When they got back, Daddy bear asked, “Who’s been eating my porridge?” Baby bear asked tearfully, “And who’s been eating my porridge?” Finally, Mommy bear chimed in with, “Oh, stop this silliness - I haven’t made any porridge this morning as of yet.”
“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.” -Hans Christian Andersen (1805 - 1875): “The True Story of My Life” (1871)
“A charmed life is not theirs; a hard lot is theirs. Few fairy tale characters live in castles. Many of them call far more humble abodes their home. They sleep on the floor, subsist on boiled roots, nuts, and berries, and earn a precarious living doing difficult labor for meager pay, when they can get it. They must always carry a big, heavy stick to fend off thieves and wolves. Yet they rarely consider themselves poor or question the way life treats them, because just trying to stay alive each day fully occupies them. Possibly the lives of ordinary fairy tale characters have much in common with the lives of ordinary real people, because neither know much of the charmed world of princesses and palaces . . . except in fairy tales they might have heard.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “If You Believe in Fairy Tales”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Life and Living” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Olaf: What has six legs, four ears, and a shining suit of armor?
Olga: A prince on horseback!
“Wherever is love and loyalty, great purposes and lofty souls, even though in a hovel or a mine, there is a fairy-land.” -Charles Kingsley: “Westward Ho!” (1857), page 161
One day a boy was sitting in his first grade class as the teacher was reading the story of the “Three Little Pigs.” The story is about three pigs who build houses of straw, sticks, and bricks to protect themselves from the big bad wolf. She came to the part of the story where the first pig was trying to acquire building materials for his home. She said, “. . . and so the pig went up to the man with a wheelbarrow full of straw and said ‘Pardon me sir, but might I have some of that straw to build my house with?’” Then the teacher asked the class, “And what do you think that man said?” My friend’s son raised his hand and said, “I know! I know! He said, ‘Wow! I don’t believe it - a real, live talking pig!’” The teacher was unable to teach for the next ten minutes.
“Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Changing and Adjusting” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Marty: Why did Cinderella fall down at the ball?
Arty: Because she was wearing slippers.
Mouse: My, what big ears you have, and such a long nose, and pointed teeth - you are not going to eat me . . . are you?
Elephant: Yes, I do have big ears, though my trunk is much more than just a great long nose, and my tusks are not for chewing like teeth are. Also, I am a vegetarian, and I do not eat mice.
-David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “Fairy Tales Re-Imagined”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Anatomy and Physiology” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am 50, I read them openly. When I became a man, I put away childish things - including the fear of childishness and the desire to be grown-up.” -C. S. Lewis (Clive Staples Lewis (1898 - 1963)): as quoted in Walter Hooper, editor: “Of This and Other Worlds” (1982)
Rumpelstiltskin: What is it that everybody listens to but no intelligent person believes?
Rapunzel: The weather reporter.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Weather and Climates” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales Quiz
- What do the three bears like to eat for breakfast?
- What types of characters can be found in fairy tales?
- Which fairy tale has seven dwarfs?
- What is the purpose of fairy tales?
- What fairy tale character is half-human and half-fish?
- What is your favorite fairy tale?
“I like Cinderella, I really do. She has a good work ethic. I appreciate a good, hard-working gal. And she likes shoes.” -Amy Adams
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Shoes and Footwear” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales Quiz Answers
- The three bears like to eat porridge for breakfast.
- Characters such as talking animals, tradesmen, giants, children, princesses, and magical beings can be found in fairy tales.
- The fairy tale that has seven dwarfs is, “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”
- The purpose of fairy tales is to teach people about the dangers and wonderfulness of life in an entertaining fashion.
- The Little Mermaid is a half-human, half-fish fairy tale character.
- You get to decide which fairy tale is your favorite, and no one else gets to decide for you.
“He’s away with the fairies,” is an Irish expression for someone who is a bit loopy or a daydreamer.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Fairies and Faeries” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” -C. S. Lewis (Clive Staples Lewis (1898 - 1963))
In the original Italian version of “Cinderella,” the benevolent fairy godmother character was a cat.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Domestic Cats” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Happily ever after is not a place; it is a state of being, and you have to work at it every day.” -Gwendolyn Heasley
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Happiness” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Life and Living” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Olaf: What has six legs, four ears, and a shining suit of armor?
Olga: A prince on horseback!
“Wherever is love and loyalty, great purposes and lofty souls, even though in a hovel or a mine, there is a fairy-land.” -Charles Kingsley: “Westward Ho!” (1857), page 161
One day a boy was sitting in his first grade class as the teacher was reading the story of the “Three Little Pigs.” The story is about three pigs who build houses of straw, sticks, and bricks to protect themselves from the big bad wolf. She came to the part of the story where the first pig was trying to acquire building materials for his home. She said, “. . . and so the pig went up to the man with a wheelbarrow full of straw and said ‘Pardon me sir, but might I have some of that straw to build my house with?’” Then the teacher asked the class, “And what do you think that man said?” My friend’s son raised his hand and said, “I know! I know! He said, ‘Wow! I don’t believe it - a real, live talking pig!’” The teacher was unable to teach for the next ten minutes.
“Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.” -Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Changing and Adjusting” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Marty: Why did Cinderella fall down at the ball?
Arty: Because she was wearing slippers.
Mouse: My, what big ears you have, and such a long nose, and pointed teeth - you are not going to eat me . . . are you?
Elephant: Yes, I do have big ears, though my trunk is much more than just a great long nose, and my tusks are not for chewing like teeth are. Also, I am a vegetarian, and I do not eat mice.
-David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “Fairy Tales Re-Imagined”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Anatomy and Physiology” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am 50, I read them openly. When I became a man, I put away childish things - including the fear of childishness and the desire to be grown-up.” -C. S. Lewis (Clive Staples Lewis (1898 - 1963)): as quoted in Walter Hooper, editor: “Of This and Other Worlds” (1982)
Rumpelstiltskin: What is it that everybody listens to but no intelligent person believes?
Rapunzel: The weather reporter.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Weather and Climates” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales Quiz
- What do the three bears like to eat for breakfast?
- What types of characters can be found in fairy tales?
- Which fairy tale has seven dwarfs?
- What is the purpose of fairy tales?
- What fairy tale character is half-human and half-fish?
- What is your favorite fairy tale?
“I like Cinderella, I really do. She has a good work ethic. I appreciate a good, hard-working gal. And she likes shoes.” -Amy Adams
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Shoes and Footwear” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales Quiz Answers
- The three bears like to eat porridge for breakfast.
- Characters such as talking animals, tradesmen, giants, children, princesses, and magical beings can be found in fairy tales.
- The fairy tale that has seven dwarfs is, “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”
- The purpose of fairy tales is to teach people about the dangers and wonderfulness of life in an entertaining fashion.
- The Little Mermaid is a half-human, half-fish fairy tale character.
- You get to decide which fairy tale is your favorite, and no one else gets to decide for you.
“He’s away with the fairies,” is an Irish expression for someone who is a bit loopy or a daydreamer.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Fairies and Faeries” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” -C. S. Lewis (Clive Staples Lewis (1898 - 1963))
In the original Italian version of “Cinderella,” the benevolent fairy godmother character was a cat.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Domestic Cats” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Happily ever after is not a place; it is a state of being, and you have to work at it every day.” -Gwendolyn Heasley
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Happiness” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“There are still fairy tales to be imagined, written, and illustrated with pictures . . . meaning there is important work yet to be done, perhaps by you. Can you think up a fairy tale, write it down, sketch some scenes from it, and make it into a book or movie? The answer is that yes, you can. It is one small part of the unlimited potential that is in you, in a world of endless possibilities that stretch further than any eyes can see. Ours is indeed a fairy tale world, and you are one of the many fairy tale characters in it.” -David Hugh Beaumont (born 1966): “If You Believe in Fairy Tales”
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Writing and Writers” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Clever Wee Pig
There once was a clever wee pig
Whose brothers were lazy and big.
Their homes were too weak
So they ran with a squeak
To the house of the clever wee pig.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Limericks” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Maybe the way to write a fairy tale is to decide on a moral or lesson first, and then build, or write, the story around it?
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Questions and Queries” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Cinderella, originally known as Aschenputtel, lost her left shoe at the stairway when the prince tried to follow her. So, does that mean she was walking around for the rest of the evening with no shoe on one foot, and one shoe on the other foot?
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Fun Facts and Trivia” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairy tales in childhood are stepping stones throughout life, leading the way through trouble and trial. The value of fairy tales lies not in a brief literary escape from reality, but in the gift of hope that goodness truly is more powerful than evil and that even the darkest reality can lead to a Happily Ever After. Do not take that gift of hope lightly. It has the power to conquer despair in the midst of sorrow, to light the darkness in the valleys of life, to whisper, “One more time,” in the face of failure. Hope is what gives life to dreams, making the fairy tale the reality.” -L. R. Knost
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Hopes and Dreams” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“We like stories that have happy endings, because they give us hope, or at least, do not take it away from us.” -Author Unknown
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Andy.
Andy, who?
Andy all lived happily ever after!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Knock-Knock Jokes” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“If I’m honest, I have to tell you I still read fairy tales, and I like them best of all.” -Audrey Hepburn (1929 - 1993)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Reading and Books” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales
Fairy tales, for those who believe,
are not a tale at all.
They are whispered to us in our dreams,
by fairies one and all.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetic Epigrams” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“When I was a little girl, fairy tales were my favorite books because even before you opened them you knew how they are going to end. Happily ever after.” -Nicola Yoon
This is MFOL! . . . folks say they heard about us once . . . in a fairy tale . . .
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Writing and Writers” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Clever Wee Pig
There once was a clever wee pig
Whose brothers were lazy and big.
Their homes were too weak
So they ran with a squeak
To the house of the clever wee pig.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Limericks” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Maybe the way to write a fairy tale is to decide on a moral or lesson first, and then build, or write, the story around it?
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Questions and Queries” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Cinderella, originally known as Aschenputtel, lost her left shoe at the stairway when the prince tried to follow her. So, does that mean she was walking around for the rest of the evening with no shoe on one foot, and one shoe on the other foot?
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Fun Facts and Trivia” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“Fairy tales in childhood are stepping stones throughout life, leading the way through trouble and trial. The value of fairy tales lies not in a brief literary escape from reality, but in the gift of hope that goodness truly is more powerful than evil and that even the darkest reality can lead to a Happily Ever After. Do not take that gift of hope lightly. It has the power to conquer despair in the midst of sorrow, to light the darkness in the valleys of life, to whisper, “One more time,” in the face of failure. Hope is what gives life to dreams, making the fairy tale the reality.” -L. R. Knost
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Hopes and Dreams” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“We like stories that have happy endings, because they give us hope, or at least, do not take it away from us.” -Author Unknown
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Andy.
Andy, who?
Andy all lived happily ever after!
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Knock-Knock Jokes” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“If I’m honest, I have to tell you I still read fairy tales, and I like them best of all.” -Audrey Hepburn (1929 - 1993)
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Reading and Books” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Fairy Tales
Fairy tales, for those who believe,
are not a tale at all.
They are whispered to us in our dreams,
by fairies one and all.
by Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the rest of the article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Poetic Epigrams” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
“When I was a little girl, fairy tales were my favorite books because even before you opened them you knew how they are going to end. Happily ever after.” -Nicola Yoon
This is MFOL! . . . folks say they heard about us once . . . in a fairy tale . . .
- Published on
Illustration by Catherine ‘Kate’ Greenaway (1846 - 1901)
The Pied Piper Of Hamelin
I
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;
A pleasanter spot you never spied;
But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.
II
Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladle’s,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women’s chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
III
At last the people in a body
To the town hall came flocking:
“’Tis clear,” cried they, “our Mayor’s a noddy;
And as for our Corporation - shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
For dolts that can’t or won’t determine
What’s best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope, because you’re old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease?
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we’re lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing!”
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.
IV
An hour they sat in council,
At length the Mayor broke silence:
“For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell,
I wish I were a mile hence!
It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain -
I’m sure my poor head aches again,
I’ve scratched it so, and all in vain
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!”
Just as he said this, what should hap
At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
“Bless us,” cried the Mayor, “what’s that?”
(With the Corporation as he sat,
Looking little though wondrous fat;
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister
Than a too-long-opened oyster,
Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous
For a plate of turtle, green and glutinous)
“Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?
Anything like the sound of a rat
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!”
V
“Come in!” - the Mayor cried, looking bigger:
And in did come the strangest figure!
His queer long coat from heel to head
Was half of yellow and half of red
And he himself was tall and thin,
With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,
But lips where smiles went out and in -
There was no guessing his kith and kin!
And nobody could enough admire
The tall man and his quaint attire.
Quoth one: “It’s as if my great-grandsire,
Starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone,
Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!”
VI
He advanced to the council-table:
And, “Please your honors,” said he, “I’m able,
By means of a secret charm, to draw
All creatures living beneath the sun,
That creep or swim or fly or run,
After me so as you never saw!
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole and toad and newt and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper.”
(And here they noticed round his neck
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
To match with his coat of the self-same check;
And at the scarf’s end hung a pipe;
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying
As if impatient to be playing
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old-fangled.)
“Yet,” said he, “poor piper as I am,
In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
I eased in Asia the Nizam
Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats:
And as for what your brain bewilders -
If I can rid your town of rats
Will you give me a thousand guilders?”
“One? Fifty thousand!” was the exclamation
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
VII
Into the street the Piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magic slept
In his quiet pipe the while;
Then, like a musical adept,
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled;
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives -
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser
Wherein all plunged and perished!
Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,
Swam across and lived to carry
(As the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary:
Which was, “At the first shrill notes of the pipe,
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
And putting apples, wondrous ripe,
Into a cider-press’s gripe:
And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks:
And it seemed as if a voice
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
Is breathed) called out, ‘Oh rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast dry-saltery!
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!’
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,
All ready staved, like a great sun shone
Glorious scarce an inch before me,
Just as methought it said ‘Come bore me!’
- I found the Weser rolling o’er me.”
VIII
You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple.
“Go,” cried the Mayor, “and get long poles!
Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters and builders
And leave in our town not even a trace
Of the rats!” - when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a, “First, if you please, my thousand guilders!”
IX
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
So did the Corporation too.
For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
And half the money would replenish
Their cellar’s biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
“Beside,” quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink,
“Our business was done at the river’s brink;
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think.
So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something for drink,
And a matter of money to put in your poke;
But as for the guilders, what we spoke
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!
X
The Piper’s face fell, and he cried,
“No trifling! I can’t wait! Beside,
I’ve promised to visit by dinnertime
Bagdad, and accept the prime
Of the Head-Cook’s pottage, all he’s rich in,
For having left, in the Caliph’s kitchen,
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor -
With him I proved no bargain-driver,
With you, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver!
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe to another fashion.”
XI
“How?” cried the Mayor, “d’ye think I brook
Being worse treated than a Cook?
Insulted by a lazy ribald
With idle pipe and vesture piebald?
You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
Blow your pipe there till you burst!”
XII
Once more he stept into the street
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician’s cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
XIII
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step or cry,
To the children merrily skipping by -
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper’s back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack
And the wretched Council’s bosoms beat,
As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its water’s
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However he turned from South to West
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
“He never can cross that mighty top!
He’s forced to let the piping drop
And we shall see our children stop!
When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed,
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole of the way;
And in after years, if you would blame
His sadness, he was used to say, -
“It’s dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can’t forget that I’m bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the Piper also promised me.
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagles’ wings:
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured,
The music stopped and I stood still,
And found myself outside the hill,
Left alone against my will,
To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country more!”
XIV
Alas, alas for Hamelin!
There came into many a burgher’s pate
A text which says that heaven’s gate
Opens to the rich at as easy rate
As the needle’s eye takes a camel in!
The mayor sent East, West, North and South,
To offer the Piper, by word of mouth
Wherever it was men’s lot to find him,
Silver and gold to his heart’s content,
If he’d only return the way he went,
And bring the children behind him.
But when they saw ‘twas a lost endeavor,
And Piper and dancers were gone forever,
They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If, after the day of the month and year,
These words did not as well appear:
“And so long after what happened here
On the twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six;”
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children’s last retreat,
They called it the Pied Piper’s Street,
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labor.
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
To shock with mirth a street so solemn,
But opposite the place of the cavern
They wrote the story on a column,
And on the great church-window painted
The same, to make the world acquainted
How their children were stolen away,
And there it stands to this very day.
And I must not omit to say
That, in Transylvania there’s a tribe
Of alien people who ascribe
To the outlandish ways and dress
On which their neighbors lay such stress,
To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterranean prison
Into which they were trepanned
Long time ago in a mighty band
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land,
But how or why they don’t understand.
XV
So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
Of scores out with all men - especially pipers!
And, whether they pipe us free, from rats or from mice,
If we’ve promised them ought, let us keep our promise.
by Robert Browning: “Dramatic Lyrics” (1842)
Robert Browning was born on 7 May 1812 in London, England. He was married to Elizabeth Barrett in 1846. He became a poet and a playwright. Robert Browning passed on at 77 years of age on 12 December 1889 in Venice, Italy.
What is a pied piper? The word ‘pied’ is an adjective meaning ‘marked by two or more colors.’ The word ‘piper’ is a noun meaning ‘one who blows or plays a wind instrument.’ The pied piper in Robert Browning’s rendition of “The Pied Piper Of Hamelin” was someone who played a flute or similar musical instrument and who wore a long coat “from heel to head” that was “half of yellow and half of red.”
What happened to the children in the Pied Piper story? Is it a sad story with a sad ending? The children in Robert Browning’s rendition of the “Pied Piper Of Hamelin” were led away from the town of Hamelin by the pied piper and disappeared. Some people have speculated that, in actuality, the ‘children’ were unemployed young adults who went to Transylvania, Poland, or other locations, at the suggestion of one of the people who were promoting those areas at the time. Once there, they found employment and settled permanently in new towns that they themselves founded - and, indeed, modern place names and resident names in those locations bear a remarkable similarity to the place name and resident names of those of the town of Hamelin. So, perhaps they lived happily ever after, as people in all good fairy tales do . . . and as many people in real life also do.
If taken as a fairy tale more so than as a historical event, lessons can be drawn from the story. One possible lesson is that we should deal fairly with people and keep the promises we make to them, and if we do not, we may find that they may not deal fairly with us.
We are MFOL! . . . and that’s not all, folks . . .
I
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;
A pleasanter spot you never spied;
But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.
II
Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladle’s,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women’s chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
III
At last the people in a body
To the town hall came flocking:
“’Tis clear,” cried they, “our Mayor’s a noddy;
And as for our Corporation - shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
For dolts that can’t or won’t determine
What’s best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope, because you’re old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease?
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we’re lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing!”
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.
IV
An hour they sat in council,
At length the Mayor broke silence:
“For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell,
I wish I were a mile hence!
It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain -
I’m sure my poor head aches again,
I’ve scratched it so, and all in vain
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!”
Just as he said this, what should hap
At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
“Bless us,” cried the Mayor, “what’s that?”
(With the Corporation as he sat,
Looking little though wondrous fat;
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister
Than a too-long-opened oyster,
Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous
For a plate of turtle, green and glutinous)
“Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?
Anything like the sound of a rat
Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!”
V
“Come in!” - the Mayor cried, looking bigger:
And in did come the strangest figure!
His queer long coat from heel to head
Was half of yellow and half of red
And he himself was tall and thin,
With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,
But lips where smiles went out and in -
There was no guessing his kith and kin!
And nobody could enough admire
The tall man and his quaint attire.
Quoth one: “It’s as if my great-grandsire,
Starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone,
Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!”
VI
He advanced to the council-table:
And, “Please your honors,” said he, “I’m able,
By means of a secret charm, to draw
All creatures living beneath the sun,
That creep or swim or fly or run,
After me so as you never saw!
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole and toad and newt and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper.”
(And here they noticed round his neck
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
To match with his coat of the self-same check;
And at the scarf’s end hung a pipe;
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying
As if impatient to be playing
Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old-fangled.)
“Yet,” said he, “poor piper as I am,
In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
I eased in Asia the Nizam
Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats:
And as for what your brain bewilders -
If I can rid your town of rats
Will you give me a thousand guilders?”
“One? Fifty thousand!” was the exclamation
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
VII
Into the street the Piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magic slept
In his quiet pipe the while;
Then, like a musical adept,
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled;
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives -
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing,
Until they came to the river Weser
Wherein all plunged and perished!
Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,
Swam across and lived to carry
(As the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary:
Which was, “At the first shrill notes of the pipe,
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
And putting apples, wondrous ripe,
Into a cider-press’s gripe:
And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks:
And it seemed as if a voice
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
Is breathed) called out, ‘Oh rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast dry-saltery!
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!’
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,
All ready staved, like a great sun shone
Glorious scarce an inch before me,
Just as methought it said ‘Come bore me!’
- I found the Weser rolling o’er me.”
VIII
You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple.
“Go,” cried the Mayor, “and get long poles!
Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters and builders
And leave in our town not even a trace
Of the rats!” - when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a, “First, if you please, my thousand guilders!”
IX
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
So did the Corporation too.
For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
And half the money would replenish
Their cellar’s biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
“Beside,” quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink,
“Our business was done at the river’s brink;
We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think.
So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something for drink,
And a matter of money to put in your poke;
But as for the guilders, what we spoke
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!
X
The Piper’s face fell, and he cried,
“No trifling! I can’t wait! Beside,
I’ve promised to visit by dinnertime
Bagdad, and accept the prime
Of the Head-Cook’s pottage, all he’s rich in,
For having left, in the Caliph’s kitchen,
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor -
With him I proved no bargain-driver,
With you, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver!
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe to another fashion.”
XI
“How?” cried the Mayor, “d’ye think I brook
Being worse treated than a Cook?
Insulted by a lazy ribald
With idle pipe and vesture piebald?
You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
Blow your pipe there till you burst!”
XII
Once more he stept into the street
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician’s cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
XIII
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step or cry,
To the children merrily skipping by -
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper’s back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack
And the wretched Council’s bosoms beat,
As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its water’s
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However he turned from South to West
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
“He never can cross that mighty top!
He’s forced to let the piping drop
And we shall see our children stop!
When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed,
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say all? No! One was lame,
And could not dance the whole of the way;
And in after years, if you would blame
His sadness, he was used to say, -
“It’s dull in our town since my playmates left!
I can’t forget that I’m bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see,
Which the Piper also promised me.
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
Joining the town and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
And flowers put forth a fairer hue,
And everything was strange and new;
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,
And horses were born with eagles’ wings:
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured,
The music stopped and I stood still,
And found myself outside the hill,
Left alone against my will,
To go now limping as before,
And never hear of that country more!”
XIV
Alas, alas for Hamelin!
There came into many a burgher’s pate
A text which says that heaven’s gate
Opens to the rich at as easy rate
As the needle’s eye takes a camel in!
The mayor sent East, West, North and South,
To offer the Piper, by word of mouth
Wherever it was men’s lot to find him,
Silver and gold to his heart’s content,
If he’d only return the way he went,
And bring the children behind him.
But when they saw ‘twas a lost endeavor,
And Piper and dancers were gone forever,
They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If, after the day of the month and year,
These words did not as well appear:
“And so long after what happened here
On the twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six;”
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children’s last retreat,
They called it the Pied Piper’s Street,
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labor.
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
To shock with mirth a street so solemn,
But opposite the place of the cavern
They wrote the story on a column,
And on the great church-window painted
The same, to make the world acquainted
How their children were stolen away,
And there it stands to this very day.
And I must not omit to say
That, in Transylvania there’s a tribe
Of alien people who ascribe
To the outlandish ways and dress
On which their neighbors lay such stress,
To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterranean prison
Into which they were trepanned
Long time ago in a mighty band
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land,
But how or why they don’t understand.
XV
So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
Of scores out with all men - especially pipers!
And, whether they pipe us free, from rats or from mice,
If we’ve promised them ought, let us keep our promise.
by Robert Browning: “Dramatic Lyrics” (1842)
Robert Browning was born on 7 May 1812 in London, England. He was married to Elizabeth Barrett in 1846. He became a poet and a playwright. Robert Browning passed on at 77 years of age on 12 December 1889 in Venice, Italy.
What is a pied piper? The word ‘pied’ is an adjective meaning ‘marked by two or more colors.’ The word ‘piper’ is a noun meaning ‘one who blows or plays a wind instrument.’ The pied piper in Robert Browning’s rendition of “The Pied Piper Of Hamelin” was someone who played a flute or similar musical instrument and who wore a long coat “from heel to head” that was “half of yellow and half of red.”
What happened to the children in the Pied Piper story? Is it a sad story with a sad ending? The children in Robert Browning’s rendition of the “Pied Piper Of Hamelin” were led away from the town of Hamelin by the pied piper and disappeared. Some people have speculated that, in actuality, the ‘children’ were unemployed young adults who went to Transylvania, Poland, or other locations, at the suggestion of one of the people who were promoting those areas at the time. Once there, they found employment and settled permanently in new towns that they themselves founded - and, indeed, modern place names and resident names in those locations bear a remarkable similarity to the place name and resident names of those of the town of Hamelin. So, perhaps they lived happily ever after, as people in all good fairy tales do . . . and as many people in real life also do.
If taken as a fairy tale more so than as a historical event, lessons can be drawn from the story. One possible lesson is that we should deal fairly with people and keep the promises we make to them, and if we do not, we may find that they may not deal fairly with us.
We are MFOL! . . . and that’s not all, folks . . .
- Published on
Little Red Riding-Hood
In a great wide forest, full of beautiful trees, and green glades, and thorny thickets, there lived a long time ago a wood-cutter and his wife, who had only one child, a little girl. She was so pretty, and so good, that the Sun seemed to shine more brightly when its light fell upon her rosy little face, and the birds would seem to sing more sweetly when she was passing by.
Her real name was Maisie; but the neighbors round about all called her “Little Red Riding-Hood,” because of a scarlet riding-hood and cloak that her kind old grandmother had made for her, and which she nearly always wore.
She was a happy, merry little child, with a smile and a gentle word for everybody, and so you may easily believe that everybody loved her, and was glad to catch a glimpse of her golden curls and her scarlet cloak as she tripped along, singing, under the green boughs.
Now, this, let me tell you before I forget, was at the time when all the birds and beasts, or very nearly all, could speak just as well as you or I; and nobody was surprised to hear them talk, as I suppose one would be nowadays.
Well, as I was saying, Little Red Riding-Hood lived with her parents in a little white cottage with a green door and a thatched roof, and red and white roses climbing all over the walls, and were ever putting their pretty heads in at the latticed windows, to peep at the child who was so like them.
It was on a bright spring morning early in May, when little Red Riding-Hood had just finished putting away the breakfast-cups that her mother came bustling in from the dairy.
“Here’s a to-do,” she said. “Farmer Hodge has this very minute told me that he hears your Grannie isn’t quite well, and I can’t leave the cheese-making this morning for love or money! Do you go, my dear, and find out how she is - and - stay - take her this little pot of sweet fresh butter, and these two new-laid eggs, and these nice tasty little pasties. Maybe they’ll tempt her to eat a bit. Here’s your basket, and don’t be too long away, honey.”
So little Red Riding-Hood pulled her hood over her curls, and set off down the sunny green slope, with her basket in her hand, at a brisk pace. But as she got deeper into the forest, she walked more slowly. Everything was so beautiful; the great trees waved their huge arms over her, the birds were calling to one another from the thorns all white with blossom, and the child began singing as she went, she could not have told why, but I think it was because the beautiful world made her feel glad.
The path wound along through the trees, and, as it grew wider after turning a corner, Red Riding-Hood saw that she was likely to have company on her walk; for, where two cross-paths divided, there sat a big gray wolf licking his long paws, and looking sharply about him. “Good morning, Red Riding-Hood,” said he.
“Good morning, Mr. Wolf,” she answered.
“And where may you be going, sweet lass?” said the Wolf, as he walked beside her.
“Oh, Grannie isn’t very well, and mother cannot leave the cheese-making this morning, and so I’m taking her some little dainties in my basket, and I am to see how she is, and tell mother when I get back,” said the child with a smile.
“And,” said the wolf, “where does your good Grannie live, little lady?”
“Through the copse,* and down the hollow, and over the bridge, and three meadows after the mill.”
*copse: a small groups of trees
“Does she indeed?” cried he. “Why, then, I do believe she is a very dear old friend of mine, whom I have not seen for years and years. Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, you and I: I will go by this way, and you shall take that, and whoever gets there first shall be the winner of the game.”
So the Wolf trotted off one way, and Red Riding-Hood went the other; and I am sorry to say that she lingered and loitered more than she ought to have done on the road.
Well, what with one thing and another, the Sun was right up in the very mid-most middle of the sky when she crossed the last meadow from the mill and came in sight of her grandmother’s cottage, and the big lilac-bushes that grew by the garden gate.
“Oh! dear, how I must have lingered!” said the child, when she saw how high the Sun had climbed since she set out on her journey; and, pattering up the garden-path, she tapped at the cottage door.
“Who’s there?” said a very gruff kind of voice from inside.
“It’s only I, Grannie dear, your little Red Riding-Hood with some goodies for you in my basket,” answered the child.
“Then pull the bobbin,” cried the voice, “and the latch will go up.”
“What a dreadful cold poor Grannie must have, to be sure, to make her so hoarse,” thought the child. Then she pulled the bobbin, and the latch went up, and Red Riding-Hood pushed open the door, and stepped inside the cottage.
It seemed very dark in there after the bright sunlight outside, and all Red Riding-Hood could see was that the window-curtains and the bed-curtains were still drawn, and her grandmother seemed to be lying in bed with the bed-clothes pulled almost over her head, and her great white-frilled nightcap nearly hiding her face.
Now, you and I have guessed by this time, although poor Red Riding-Hood never even thought of such a thing, that it was not her Grannie at all, but the wicked Wolf, who had hurried to the cottage and put on Grannie’s nightcap and popped into her bed, to pretend that he was Grannie herself.
And where was Grannie all this time, you will say? Well, we shall see presently.
“Come and sit down beside my bed, dearie,” wheezed the Wolf, “and let us have a little chat.” Then the Wolf stretched out his large hairy paws and began to unfasten the basket.
“Oh!” said Red Riding-Hood, “what great arms you have, Grannie!”
“All the better to hug you with,” said the Wolf.
“And what great rough ears you have, Grannie!”
“All the better to hear you with, my little dear.”
“And your eyes, Grannie; what great yellow eyes you have!”
“All the better to see you with, my pet,” grinned the Wolf.
“And oh! oh! Grannie,” cried the child, in a sad fright, “what great sharp teeth you have!”
“All the better to eat you with!” growled the Wolf, springing up suddenly at Red Riding-Hood. But just at that very moment the door flew open, and two tall wood-cutters who had been on the trail of the wicked Wolf rushed in with their heavy axes, and made an end of the wicked Wolf in far less time than it takes me to tell you about it.
“But where is Grannie?” asked Little Red Riding-Hood, when she had thanked the brave wood-cutters. “Oh! where can poor Grannie be? Can the cruel Wolf have eaten her up?”
And she began to cry and sob bitterly - when, who should walk in but Grannie herself, as large as life, and as hearty as ever, with her marketing-basket on her arm! For it was another old dame in the village who was not very well, and Grannie had been down to visit her and give her some of her own famous herb-tea.
So everything turned out right in the end, and all lived happily ever after; but I promise you that little Red Riding-Hood never made friends with a Wolf again!
by Author Unknown: fairy tale story based on “Little Red Riding-Hood” as published in Hamilton Wright Mabie, Edward Everett Hale, and William Byron Forbush, editors: “Childhood’s Favorites and Fairy Stories: The Young Folks Treasury” (1927)
In a great wide forest, full of beautiful trees, and green glades, and thorny thickets, there lived a long time ago a wood-cutter and his wife, who had only one child, a little girl. She was so pretty, and so good, that the Sun seemed to shine more brightly when its light fell upon her rosy little face, and the birds would seem to sing more sweetly when she was passing by.
Her real name was Maisie; but the neighbors round about all called her “Little Red Riding-Hood,” because of a scarlet riding-hood and cloak that her kind old grandmother had made for her, and which she nearly always wore.
She was a happy, merry little child, with a smile and a gentle word for everybody, and so you may easily believe that everybody loved her, and was glad to catch a glimpse of her golden curls and her scarlet cloak as she tripped along, singing, under the green boughs.
Now, this, let me tell you before I forget, was at the time when all the birds and beasts, or very nearly all, could speak just as well as you or I; and nobody was surprised to hear them talk, as I suppose one would be nowadays.
Well, as I was saying, Little Red Riding-Hood lived with her parents in a little white cottage with a green door and a thatched roof, and red and white roses climbing all over the walls, and were ever putting their pretty heads in at the latticed windows, to peep at the child who was so like them.
It was on a bright spring morning early in May, when little Red Riding-Hood had just finished putting away the breakfast-cups that her mother came bustling in from the dairy.
“Here’s a to-do,” she said. “Farmer Hodge has this very minute told me that he hears your Grannie isn’t quite well, and I can’t leave the cheese-making this morning for love or money! Do you go, my dear, and find out how she is - and - stay - take her this little pot of sweet fresh butter, and these two new-laid eggs, and these nice tasty little pasties. Maybe they’ll tempt her to eat a bit. Here’s your basket, and don’t be too long away, honey.”
So little Red Riding-Hood pulled her hood over her curls, and set off down the sunny green slope, with her basket in her hand, at a brisk pace. But as she got deeper into the forest, she walked more slowly. Everything was so beautiful; the great trees waved their huge arms over her, the birds were calling to one another from the thorns all white with blossom, and the child began singing as she went, she could not have told why, but I think it was because the beautiful world made her feel glad.
The path wound along through the trees, and, as it grew wider after turning a corner, Red Riding-Hood saw that she was likely to have company on her walk; for, where two cross-paths divided, there sat a big gray wolf licking his long paws, and looking sharply about him. “Good morning, Red Riding-Hood,” said he.
“Good morning, Mr. Wolf,” she answered.
“And where may you be going, sweet lass?” said the Wolf, as he walked beside her.
“Oh, Grannie isn’t very well, and mother cannot leave the cheese-making this morning, and so I’m taking her some little dainties in my basket, and I am to see how she is, and tell mother when I get back,” said the child with a smile.
“And,” said the wolf, “where does your good Grannie live, little lady?”
“Through the copse,* and down the hollow, and over the bridge, and three meadows after the mill.”
*copse: a small groups of trees
“Does she indeed?” cried he. “Why, then, I do believe she is a very dear old friend of mine, whom I have not seen for years and years. Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, you and I: I will go by this way, and you shall take that, and whoever gets there first shall be the winner of the game.”
So the Wolf trotted off one way, and Red Riding-Hood went the other; and I am sorry to say that she lingered and loitered more than she ought to have done on the road.
Well, what with one thing and another, the Sun was right up in the very mid-most middle of the sky when she crossed the last meadow from the mill and came in sight of her grandmother’s cottage, and the big lilac-bushes that grew by the garden gate.
“Oh! dear, how I must have lingered!” said the child, when she saw how high the Sun had climbed since she set out on her journey; and, pattering up the garden-path, she tapped at the cottage door.
“Who’s there?” said a very gruff kind of voice from inside.
“It’s only I, Grannie dear, your little Red Riding-Hood with some goodies for you in my basket,” answered the child.
“Then pull the bobbin,” cried the voice, “and the latch will go up.”
“What a dreadful cold poor Grannie must have, to be sure, to make her so hoarse,” thought the child. Then she pulled the bobbin, and the latch went up, and Red Riding-Hood pushed open the door, and stepped inside the cottage.
It seemed very dark in there after the bright sunlight outside, and all Red Riding-Hood could see was that the window-curtains and the bed-curtains were still drawn, and her grandmother seemed to be lying in bed with the bed-clothes pulled almost over her head, and her great white-frilled nightcap nearly hiding her face.
Now, you and I have guessed by this time, although poor Red Riding-Hood never even thought of such a thing, that it was not her Grannie at all, but the wicked Wolf, who had hurried to the cottage and put on Grannie’s nightcap and popped into her bed, to pretend that he was Grannie herself.
And where was Grannie all this time, you will say? Well, we shall see presently.
“Come and sit down beside my bed, dearie,” wheezed the Wolf, “and let us have a little chat.” Then the Wolf stretched out his large hairy paws and began to unfasten the basket.
“Oh!” said Red Riding-Hood, “what great arms you have, Grannie!”
“All the better to hug you with,” said the Wolf.
“And what great rough ears you have, Grannie!”
“All the better to hear you with, my little dear.”
“And your eyes, Grannie; what great yellow eyes you have!”
“All the better to see you with, my pet,” grinned the Wolf.
“And oh! oh! Grannie,” cried the child, in a sad fright, “what great sharp teeth you have!”
“All the better to eat you with!” growled the Wolf, springing up suddenly at Red Riding-Hood. But just at that very moment the door flew open, and two tall wood-cutters who had been on the trail of the wicked Wolf rushed in with their heavy axes, and made an end of the wicked Wolf in far less time than it takes me to tell you about it.
“But where is Grannie?” asked Little Red Riding-Hood, when she had thanked the brave wood-cutters. “Oh! where can poor Grannie be? Can the cruel Wolf have eaten her up?”
And she began to cry and sob bitterly - when, who should walk in but Grannie herself, as large as life, and as hearty as ever, with her marketing-basket on her arm! For it was another old dame in the village who was not very well, and Grannie had been down to visit her and give her some of her own famous herb-tea.
So everything turned out right in the end, and all lived happily ever after; but I promise you that little Red Riding-Hood never made friends with a Wolf again!
by Author Unknown: fairy tale story based on “Little Red Riding-Hood” as published in Hamilton Wright Mabie, Edward Everett Hale, and William Byron Forbush, editors: “Childhood’s Favorites and Fairy Stories: The Young Folks Treasury” (1927)
- Published on
A Serious Question
A kitten went a-walking
One morning in July,
And idly fell a-talking
With a great big butterfly.
The kitten’s tone was airy,
The butterfly would scoff;
When there came along a fairy
Who whisked his wings right off.
And then - for it is written
Fairies can do such things -
Upon the startled kitten
She stuck the yellow wings.
The kitten felt a quiver,
She rose into the air,
Then flew down to the river
To view her image there.
With fear her heart was smitten,
And she began to cry,
“Am I a butter-kitten?
Or just a kitten-fly?”
by Carolyn Wells
Carolyn Wells Houghton was born on 18 June 1862 in Rahway, New Jersey, United States of America. She supplemented her formal education with an early-formed habit of her love of reading. After completing her schooling, she worked as a librarian for the Rahway Library Association for some years. Her love of puzzles led to her first book, “At the Sign of the Sphinx” (1896), a collection of charades. She followed with “The Jingle Book” (1899); “The Story of Betty” (1899), first of a series of novels for girls; and “Idle Idyls” (1900), a book of verse for adults. She was married to Hadwin Houghton (1855 - 1919). Her autobiography, “The Rest of My Life,” appeared in 1937. Carolyn Wells Houghton passed on at 79 years of age on 26 March 1942 in New York City, New York, United States of America.
A kitten went a-walking
One morning in July,
And idly fell a-talking
With a great big butterfly.
The kitten’s tone was airy,
The butterfly would scoff;
When there came along a fairy
Who whisked his wings right off.
And then - for it is written
Fairies can do such things -
Upon the startled kitten
She stuck the yellow wings.
The kitten felt a quiver,
She rose into the air,
Then flew down to the river
To view her image there.
With fear her heart was smitten,
And she began to cry,
“Am I a butter-kitten?
Or just a kitten-fly?”
by Carolyn Wells
Carolyn Wells Houghton was born on 18 June 1862 in Rahway, New Jersey, United States of America. She supplemented her formal education with an early-formed habit of her love of reading. After completing her schooling, she worked as a librarian for the Rahway Library Association for some years. Her love of puzzles led to her first book, “At the Sign of the Sphinx” (1896), a collection of charades. She followed with “The Jingle Book” (1899); “The Story of Betty” (1899), first of a series of novels for girls; and “Idle Idyls” (1900), a book of verse for adults. She was married to Hadwin Houghton (1855 - 1919). Her autobiography, “The Rest of My Life,” appeared in 1937. Carolyn Wells Houghton passed on at 79 years of age on 26 March 1942 in New York City, New York, United States of America.
- Published on
The Road to Fairyland
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.
by Ernest Thompson Seton
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.
by Ernest Thompson Seton
