The Fairy

I'd love to find a fairy! A pink and pearly fairy All light and bright and airy— Wouldn't you? Now, wouldn't you? I'd catch her very gently, And hold her tight—but gently, For fairies evidently Don't care to be on view.

I've looked beneath the hedges, And by the rivers' edges Where rustling reeds and sedges And ribbon-grasses grow; I've crept through ferny places Where cob-webs hung like laces, And I think I've found the traces Of tiny feet—you know!

On beds of thyme or tansy, Or on a purple pansy, (Especially a pansy!) I might find one asleep— Then, if I didn't wake it Or frighten it, or break it, Why I might softly take it And bring it home to keep!

But if it got down-hearted To find that it was parted From all its friends, and started To sadly wail and cry— I know I could not stand it! I'd feel just like a bandit, And so I would unhand it, And say, "Go home, then!—Fly!"