<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0THE FAIRY GLEN<\/p>\n\n\n\n
by Leila Sen<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On mossy mound where toadstools grow,
They dance in moonlight, row on row,
To music from the purling brook
Where Conwy dreams in secret nook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strange moonlight whisperings thru the wood
Where ancient golden beech have stood
And drowsed, thru drifting times of yore,
Steeped deep in mystic myth and lore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Their bark with lichen garlands hung,
‘Neath cobweb skiens with dew-pearls strung,
While knurled and knotted roots surround
To shield, from man, the hallowed ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That mist-clad land of whims and spells,
Floating music and tinkling bells;
A door lies hid beyond night’s pale,
Wrapped in a glimm’ring, shifting veil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But if that spell-bound caul you’ll pierce,
Then drink the mead from faerie tierce;
The shade will fall away, and lo,
Into the elven realm you’ll go!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Where pwca, sylph and woodland sprite
Trip light and skip in pure delight,
While imp and hob kick up their heels
And spin and whirl thru faerie reels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A faerie woodwind’s eerie lilt,
From fife that’s hewn of wood and gilt,
With pulsing throb of faerie drums,
Through the glen at midnight comes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Leila Sen (C)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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