White Magic

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 145th birthday.

03-06 Fyleman
Rose Fyleman
1877 – 1957

Blind folk see the fairies,

Oh, better far than we,
Who miss the shining of their wings
Because our eyes are filled with things

We do not wish to see.
They need not seek enchantment

From solemn, printed books,
For all about them as they go
The fairies flutter to and fro

With smiling, friendly looks.

Deaf folk hear the fairies

However soft their song;
‘Tis we who lose the honey sound
Amid the clamour all around

That beats the whole day long.
But they with gentle faces

Sit quietly apart;
What room have they for sorrowing
While fairy minstrels sit and sing
Close to their listening heart?

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