Writers for centuries have given us poetry about the fae. From Keats the Shakespeare to modern writers. the variety is as near endless as there are kinds of Fairies. I've collected some of the best and most famous here for you to enjoy.

 The Land of Heart's Desire
William Butler Yeats
The land of faery
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue....
Land of Heart's Desire,
Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,
 But joy is wisdom, Time an endless song.


The Fairies, 
William Allingham
UP the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.
High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He 's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist

Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
If any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!

Stolen Child 
William Butler Yeats
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefull of weeping than you
can understand. 

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand. 

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you.

Queen Mab Speech, 
William Shakespeare
Mercutio: O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Over men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
Her traces of the smallest spider web,
Her collars of the moonshine's wat'ry beams,
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of philome,
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
is an empty hazel nut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out a mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains and then they dream of love,
On courtiers' knees that dream on cursies straight,
O'er lawyers' fingers who straight dream on fees,
O'er ladies' lips who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit,
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a.parson's nose as 'a lies asleep--
Then he dreams of another benefice.
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs
Which once entangled much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she- 

Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. 

Mercutio:. True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain....

Act 1 scene 4 Romeo and Juliet

Oberon's Speech
William Shakespeare

I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady: thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.


Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.

Act 2, Scene 1  A midsummer's night dream



Puck and the Fairy
William Shakespeare
Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK 


How now, spirit! whither wander you?


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;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon.


The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy:
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
But, they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.


Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?


Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
; In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.


And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!

Act 2, Scene 1  A midsummer's night dream

from  Paradise Lost
John Milton
Faery Elves, Whose midnight revels by a forest-side,
or a fountain, some belated peasant sees,
or dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon
Sits arbitress and nearer to the Earth
Wheels her pale course, they on their mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear:
at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child
 Robert Graves
Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they're seven years old.
Every fairy child may keep
Two ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild--
I'd love to be a Fairy's child.
The Fairies Dance
adopted from "Irish National Poetry"
The fairies dance by brake and bow'r,
For this to them is the gayest hour.
With steps so soft and with robes so white,
They trip it there in clear moonlight.

Their queen has youth and beauty rare,
The maids of earth are not half so fair.
Her glance so quick and her eyes so bright,
They shine with soft unearthly light.

She'll meet thee like a lady fair.
Go not, for danger awaits thee there!
She'll lead thee far over grove and glen,
And thou shall ne'er be seen again.

Fairy Song
Thomas Haynes Bayly
Oh, where do fairies hide their heads
When snow lies on the hills
When frost has spoil'd their mossy beds
And crystalized their rills?
Beneath the moon they cannot trip
In circles o're the plain,
And drafts of dew they cannot sip
Till green leaves come again
Till green leaves come again.

Perhaps in small blue diving bells
They plunge beneath the waves,
Inhabiting the wreathed shells 
That liein coral caves
Perhaps in red Vesuvius Carousals they maintain
And cheer their little spirits up 
Till green leaves come again
Till green leaves come again.

When back they come there'll be glad mirth
And music in the air,
And fairy wings upon the earth,
And mischief everywhere 
The maids, to keep the elves aloof, 
will bar the doors in vain,
No keyhole will be fairy proof
When green leaves come again
Till green leaves come again.


The Fairies
 Rose Fyleman
There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
It's not so very, very far away;
You pass the gardner's shed and you just keep straight ahead--
I do so hope they've really come to stay.
There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,
And a little stream that quietly runs through;
You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there--
Well, they do.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
They oftenhave a dance there on summer nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely breeze,
And the rabbits stand about to hold the lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan,
And dance away up there in the middle of the air?
Well, they can.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very handsom;
The Queen--now you can quess who that could be?
(She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)
Well, it's me!

If You See A Fairy Ring.
Author Unknown
If you see a fairy ring
In a field of grass,
Very lightly step around,
Tip-Toe as you pass,
Last night Fairies frolicked there
And they're sleeping somewhere near.
If you see a tiny fairy
Lying fast asleep
Shut your eyes
And run away,
Do not stay to peek!
Do not tell
Or you'll break a fairy spell
The Fairy Beam Upon You. 
Ben Johnson
The fairy beam upon you,
The stars to glisten on you,
A moon of light
In the noon of night,
Till the firedrake hath o'er-gone you.
The wheel of fortune guide you,
The boy with the bow beside you
Run aye in the way
Till the bird of day
And the luckier lote betide you.
William Blake 
Come hither my sparrows
My little arrows
If a tear or a smile
Will a man beguile
If an amorous delay
Clouds a sunshiny day
If the step of a foot
Smites the heart to its root
Tis the marriage ring
Makes each fairy a king

So a fairy sung
From the leaves I sprung
He leapd from the spray
To flee away
But in my hat caught
He soon shall be taught
Let him laugh let him cry
He's my butterfly
For I've pulld out the Sting
Of the marriage ring.

Ode to a Nightingale
John Keats
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown,
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Fairy Bread
Robert Louis Stevenson 
Come up here, O dusty feet! 
Here is fairy ready to eat. 
Here in my retiring room, 
Children, you may dine 
On the golden smell of broom
And the shade of pine; 
And when you have eaten well,
Fairy stories hear and tell. 
Little Elfman
John Kendrick Bangs 
I met a little elfman once, 
Down where the lilies blow. 
I asked him why he was so small,
And why he did't grow. 
He slightly frowned, and with his eye 
He lookes me through and through- 
"I'm just as big for me" said he, 
"As you are big for you!" 
By the Moon We Sport and Play
John Lyly 
By the moon we sport and play, 
With the night begins our day, 
As we dance the dew doth fall: 
Trip it, little urchins all! 
Two by two, and three by three, 
And about go we, and about go we! 
Fairy Frilly
Florence Hoaston
Fairy Frilly for half an hour 
Went to sleep in a poppy flower- 
Went to sleep in her little green frock, 
And the time of the ball was ten o' clock. 
Quarter to ten and five to ten 
Ticked from the dandelion clock again, 
But Fairy Frilly was deaf to all, 
And ten was the time of the fairy ball! 
Little West Wind came by that way, 
And he pulled off the petal where Frilly lay
Pulled it off with the fairy on it, 
And blew with a great big breath upon it.
Of sailed the petal, Frilly and all- 
And thats how she managed to get to the ball
The Light-Hearted Fairy
Author Unknown 
Oh, who is so merry, so merry heigh ho! 
As the light-hearted fairy? heigh ho, Heigh ho! 
He dances and sings 
To the sound of his wings
With a hey and a heigh and a ho!
Oh, who is so merry, so airy, heigh ho!
As the light-headed fairy? heigh ho, Heigh ho!
His nectar he sips 
From the primrose's' lips
With a hey and a heigh and a ho!
Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho!
As the light-footed fairy? heigh ho! 
Heigh ho! 
The night in his noon
And his sun is the moon 
With a hey and a heigh and a ho! 
The Find
Francis Ledwidge 
I took a reed and blew a tune, 
And sweet it was and very clear 
To be about a little thing 
That only few hold dear. 
Three times the cuckoo named himself, 
But nothing heard him on the hill, 
Where I was piping like an elf; 
The air was very still. 
"Twas all about a little thing
I made a mystery of sound; 
I found it in a fairy ring 
Upon a fairy mound. 

Edgar Allan Poe
Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods, 
Whose forms we can't discover 
For the tears that drip all over! 
Huge moons there wax and wane- 
Again- again- again- 
Every moment of the night- 
Forever changing places- 
And they put out the star-light 
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial, 
One more filmy than the rest 
(A kind which, upon trial, 
They have found to be the best) 
Comes down- still down- and down, 
With its centre on the crown 
Of a mountain's eminence, 
While its wide circumference 
In easy drapery falls 
Over hamlets, over halls, 
Wherever they may be- 
O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea- 
Over spirits on the wing- 
Over every drowsy thing- 
And buries them up quite 
In a labyrinth of light- 
And then, how deep!- O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise, 
And their moony covering 
Is soaring in the skies, 
With the tempests as they toss,
Like- almost anything- 
Or a yellow Albatross. 
They use that moon no more 
For the same end as before- 
Videlicet, a tent- 
Which I think extravagant: 
Its atomies, however, 
Into a shower dissever, 
Of which those butterflies 
Of Earth, who seek the skies, 
And so come down again, 
(Never-contented things!) 
Have brought a specimen 
Upon their quivering wings. 


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