The Fairies
Come, follow, follow me,
You fairy elves that be Which circle on the green, Come, follow Mab, your queen, Hand in hand let's dance around, For this place is fairy ground. Upon a mushroom's head Our table-cloth we spread; A grain of rye or wheat Is manchet, which we eat; Pearly drops of dew we drink In acorn-cups fill'd to the brink. |
On tops of dewy grass So nimbly do we pass, The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends when we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been. |