Fairy Poems

Popular Fairy Poems
Ode Written In The Beginning Of The Year 1746
by William Collins

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;

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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,

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Fairies
by Marchette Chute

You can't see fairies unless you're good.
That's what Nurse said to me.
They live in the smoke of the chimney,
Or down in the roots of tree;
They brush their wings on a tulip,
Or hide behind a pea.

But you can't see fairies unless you're good,
So they are'nt much use to me.

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Absence
by Mary Darby Robinson

WHEN from the craggy mountain's pathless steep,
Whose flinty brow hangs o'er the raging sea,
My wand'ring eye beholds the foamy deep,
I mark the restless surge­and think of THEE.
The curling waves, the passing breezes move,
Changing and treach'rous as the breath of LOVE;
The "sad similitude" awakes my smart,
And thy dear image twines about my heart.

When at the sober hour of sinking day,

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Emmett Till *
by James Emanuel

I hear a whistling
Through the water.
Little Emmett
Won't be still.
He keeps floating
Round the darkness,
Edging through
The silent chill.
Tell me, please,
That bedtime story

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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

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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

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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;

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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.


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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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