(The Fairy Fiddler by Ethel Archer)

Away, in the misty moorland glen
Where the Elf-Folk dance with the Wee Brown Men,
And the rowan-berry burns haughtily
As she tells of the wind's inconstancy
'Tis there I am bound by the far faint rune
Of the Fairy Fiddler's silver shoon!

Where the harebell waves from the tufted grass,
There never the foot of a man may pass;
For the painted fireflies glance and gleam
Like the golden thoughts in a goblin's dream,
And the ghostly coppice of oak and pine
Holds a legion of imps from the Moonbeam Mine.

When I lay me down in their wondrous car
I travel so quickly from star to star,
That the Earth and the Moon are as glowworm lights
That flash o'er the field of the blurred blue heights:
For it's where I am bound by the far faint rune
Of the Fairy Fiddler's silver shoon!

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