Fairy Poems | Poemist

Popular Fairy Poems

Saturday's Child

by Countee Cullen

Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black racoon--
For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.
For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;

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Envoy For "A Child's Garden Of Verses"

by Robert Louis Stevenson

WHETHER upon the garden seat
You lounge with your uplifted feet
Under the May's whole Heaven of blue;
Or whether on the sofa you,
No grown up person being by,
Do some soft corner occupy;
Take you this volume in your hands
And enter into other lands,
For lo! (as children feign) suppose
You, hunting in the garden rows,

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A Fairy Song

by William Shakespeare

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;

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Courage

by Robert William Service

Today I opened wide my eyes,
And stared with wonder and surprise,
To see beneath November skies
An apple blossom peer;
Upon a branch as bleak as night
It gleamed exultant on my sight,
A fairy beacon burning bright
Of hope and cheer.

'Alas! ' said I, 'poor foolish thing,

......

The Eolian Harp

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

(Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire)

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o'ergrown
With white-flower'd Jasmin, and the broad-leav'd Myrtle,
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!)
And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light,
Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should Wisdom be)

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Recent Fairy Poems

Divine Red Overdose

by Jayesh Goyal

The scent of desires and splashes of passion, a mix of effervescence with flames of fire, she glows like the silver rays of the moon
With wet lips as pen and her femininity as canvas, I seem helpless to describe the lady draped in a red saree
Adorned with delicate silver filigree earrings and the fine necklace swinging slowly, kissing her neck, arousing bubbles of jealousy in me
Eyes, beautiful as interstellar explosions, the left full of passionate wants and the other shy of my furtive gaze
Her stifling eyes speak of impetuous thoughts, combine as one, passions and lust
I hear my name unspoken in her warm untiring gaze - her mounds of pleasure inviting the baby in me to satiate his hunger
Her aromatic oxters were the wild storm in the forest of dreams, as she hypnotized me with her careless lips
Pressing kisses taste of our heaving needs, awakening wild passion within me
Her savage neckline took my breath away, the graceful claws pulled my sinful thoughts into her femininity - the delicious sparks tempting my startled masculinity
Like a teenaged butterfly she danced freely - gliding effortlessly beneath the sinful sheets like a mystical serpent

......

Snow Song

by Sara Teasdale

Fairy snow, fairy snow,
Blowing, blowing everywhere,
Would that I
Too, could fly
Lightly, lightly through the air.

Like a wee, crystal star
I should drift, I should blow
Near, more near,
To my dear

......

A Golden Day

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."

Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart,
Today is joy undimmed, complete;
In tears or pain we have no part;

......

The Old Wooden Cradle

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.

No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.

......

The Wild Blue-Bells

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Came a bouquet from the city,
Fragrant, rich and debonair -
Sweet carnation and geraniium,
Heliotrope and roses rare.

Down beside the crystal river,
Where the moss-grown rocks are high,
And the ferns, from niche and crevice,
Stretch to greet the azure sky;

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