Song of the Faeries

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Song of the Faeries

A man has a hope for heaven,

But soulless a faery dies,

As a leaf that is old, and withered and cold

When the wint’ry vapours rise.

Soon shall our wings be stilled,

And our laughter over and done,

So let us dance where the yellow lance

Of the barley shoots in the sun.

So let us dance on the fringed waves,

And shout at the wisest owls

In their downy caps, and startle the naps

Of the dreaming water-fowls.

And fight for the black sloe-berries,

For soulless a faery dies,

As a leaf that is old, and withered and cold

When the wintry vapours rise.