The Changeling

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I watched the lake from my window
And saw the raven plunging like a dart,
A feathered beast with golden beak,
(Or a black-sailed ship with a raven’s heart?)
His eyes were set upon his quest,
All beady-nights and glowing,
He drew his wings to his chest,
And stretched his claws like pointy oars
And I saw, to my utter astonishment,
That his treacherous body was growing!
With spear in hand, he landed swift
On human feet on the faring shore

“Stay your wings, enemy ship!”

He uttered from his raven lips.
I stared and stared into the mist,
But could not spot a single ship
But white-winged gulls and sitting ducks.
Then the Raven-boy looked up at me
And I could see that his mouth was still a beak,
He lifted his cape, black as thorns,
And raised his feathers, like arrow-reeds,
And became the lantern-eyed raven once more,
Ripping through clouds, silver-lined by the star-sheen

“Bear my away!”

I shouted, for no reason at all, and he turned his sails,
And away I was borne.

* This poem is dedicated to my friend Cynthia Morgan, whom I know
would love to be spirited away by a changeling Fairy Prince.
If you want to read some of Morgan’s poems, please click here:
https://booknvolume.com/

The Weaver and the Underlings

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She weaves the flying tones of Linden-trees
Strong and true, through spindle-woods.
Earthlings, doomed to roam the undergrounds,
Grasp, by light of hollow-stars, at the spring of
The Faerie-sound.
Up and up and up they flee, by twigs of leaves
On dancing feet, up through birch and evergreen
Where hill-top grass lay glistening,
And the shadowed moon has laid her fate,
For them to dance through Elven-gates.

Pan’s Flute

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Enchantments coiled around my wrists
And over the field I hastened,
Through thistle-spun trees and lily-woods
But, alas, my feet began a’dancin’.
Through umbrella-leaves and parsley-blooms
I twirled in fields of goldenrod,
To pipes unseen and larks unheard.
And Pan himself must have laughed,
For he had caught me in his Faerie-trance.

The Fairy Prince and I

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I couldn’t believe the singing was real
But I followed it into the murky trees.
My shoes became heavy with reindeer-moss
And I abandoned them in the woolly blooms.
The ravens chased my heart and I
Traced their wings by shadow-moons.
But the path was laid with heather and I
Walked steadfast forth until I heard a brooding tone:

“You are dark and I am light, so keep away
From the night!”

He spun his words around my wrists
And challenged me to sing along
Fading the world until it grew old and thick.
It was then that I saw the ring,
A wreath of grass around my feet
And I made to leave, but he
Said that I was forever his.

The Faerie Years

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Art by Cicely Mary Barker

A Lilac Garden bright with snow

where Evergreens and Lilies grow

All pink and white with blossoms sweet

A trysting-place where fairies meet

In Springtime days and summer noons

A lovely scent of rich perfumes

And beds of cloves like little gems

Dancing sweet with Pixie friends

The Light a ‘shines through cherry trees

Singing leaves like symphonies

Humming birds in every nook

Mermaids bathe in laughing brooks

So blue and still the summer skies

Dotted cream with butterflies

And wayside flower’s rainbow gowns

Bejeweling summer’s youthful crown

Sheen of lace in spider’s web

Amber pales and summer sets

Tanning quick what used to be fair

Pouring thick like river’s hair

Days of June are growing old

August fades and Autumn’s bold

Audacious wind robs the warmth

And kisses the garden with lips of cold

Dawn’s Light springs on darkness’ fear

By secrets kept it solemnly swears

To ferry hope to safer ports

Where rests are long and nights are short

Under a’ many different skies

With childhood a’ light in my eyes

The spirit of that dear old place

Still holds such beauty

And gives such grace