THE FAIRY FIDDLER AWAY in the misty moorland glen Where the Elf-Folk dance with the Wee Brown Men, And the rowan-berry burns haughtily As she tells of the wind's inconstancy --- 'Tis there I am bound by the far faint rune Of the Fairy Fiddler's silver shoon! Where the harebell waves from the tufted grass, There never the foot of a man may pass; For the painted fireflies glance and gleam Like the golden thoughts in a goblin's dream, And the ghostly coppice of oak and pine Holds a legion of imps from the Moonbeam Mine. When I lay me down in their wondrous car I travel so quickly from star to star, That the Earth and the Moon are as glowworm lights That flash o'er the field of the blurred blue heights: For it's where I am bound by the far faint rune Of the Fairy Fiddler's silver shoon! ETHEL ARCHER. {115}