The Hermetic Library 2016 Funding Campaign

                              THE FAIRY FIDDLER

          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!
                                         ETHEL ARCHER.



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