The Fairies' Hollow

In distant land, where magic dwells,

‘Neath mountain river’s swell,

By wizened oak and muscadine

There fairies hidden thrive.


When morning sunlight peeks around

The shadows on the ground,

And sends his rays through window panes

Of dew drops, then awake


The pixies, sparkling, from their sleep,

And happy dreams so deep;

Flit they about on glittering wings

Clad in the deepest green.


Many tasks the fairies have

At the dawn of day; 

Placing dew on spiders’ lace,

And opening flowers gay.


Soon the mountain vale is bright,

And color meets the sight

Of all who wander through those hills

Where hidden pixies dwell.

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