June / Annette Wynne

Harry Clarke (1889-1931), from 

Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen, 

1916. Wikimedia Commons.

June

A roof of blue, a carpet green,
And flowers and tall trees between.
The faintest little breezes blowing,
And little tinkling streamlets flowing.
Then if you look
In some small nook,
You'll find the fairies all together
Dancing, for this is their weather!
But be careful when you go —
Lest you fright them, dancing so;
Underneath a broad green stem
One wee piper pipes for them,
Pipes a tiny fairy tune —
"O a fairy month is June" —
A very fairy month is June!

~~
Annette Wynne (1889-1952)

from For Days and Days: A year-round treasury of child verse, 1919

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

[July]

Annette Wynne biography

April / H. Cordelia Ray

from The Procession of the Seasons

Elf holding a bouquet in Spring, ca. 1890
Public domain, Wikimedia Commons

April

She trips across the meadows,
    The weird capricious elf!
The buds unfold their perfumed cups
    For love of her sweet self;
And silver-throated birds begin to tune their lyres,
While wind-harps lend their strains to Nature's magic choirs.

~~
H. Cordelia Ray (1852-1916)
from Poems, 1910

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

[May]

H. Cordelia Ray biography

Over hill, over dale / William Shakespeare

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.

~~
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
from A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1600

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

William Shakespeare biography

Spoils of the Dead / Robert Frost

Spoils of the Dead

Two fairies it was
  On a still summer day
Came forth in the woods
  With the flowers to play.

The flowers they plucked    
  They cast on the ground
For others, and those
  For still others they found.

Flower-guided it was
  That they came as they ran    
On something that lay
  In the shape of a man.

The snow must have made
  The feathery bed
When this one fell      
  On the sleep of the dead.

But the snow was gone
  A long time ago,
And the body he wore
  Nigh gone with the snow.    

The fairies drew near
  And keenly espied
A ring on his hand
  And a chain at his side.

They knelt in the leaves    
  And eerily played
With the glittering things,
  And were not afraid.

And when they went home
  To hide in their burrow,    
They took them along
  To play with to-morrow.

When you came on death,
  Did you not come flower-guided
Like the elves in the wood?    
  I remember that I did.

But I recognised death
  With sorrow and dread,
And I hated and hate
  The spoils of the dead.    

~~
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
from A Boy's Will, 1915

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Robert Frost biography

    "Spoils of the Dead" read for SpeakTheBeats.