The Fairy Glen


by Agnes Clarke

Along the country lane a hidden glen there lies

That magic place of fairies beneath the branches high

A little house beside the stream with shaded glades and lake

Wild flowers showing colours as their heads they gently shake

Look across the hedgerows to an experience so new

This privilege is given to the very few

 

Among the grasses they weave their spell

Dancing to the flute in that fairy dell

Little bodies writhing together in the sun

A life of joy and laughter happy everyone

The high note of the voices sounds just like the robin’s song

In a language down the ages to which we don’t belong

 

On branches sit an audience of birds and squirrels there

Each captured by the beauty of the scene they sit and stare

Wings of colourful gossamer flutter in the sun

Like gems they glint and sparkle with each dance begun

But if they see you watching that spell they’ve cast will end

So lie quietly and watch over this mysterious glen

Along the country lane a hidden glen there lies

That magic place of fairies beneath the branches high

A little house beside the stream with shaded glades and lake

Wild flowers showing colours as their heads they gently shake

Look across the hedgerows to an experience so new

This privilege is given to the very few

 

Among the grasses they weave their spell

Dancing to the flute in that fairy dell

Little bodies writhing together in the sun

A life of joy and laughter happy everyone

The high note of the voices sounds just like the robin’s song

In a language down the ages to which we don’t belong

 

On branches sit an audience of birds and squirrels there

Each captured by the beauty of the scene they sit and stare

Wings of colourful gossamer flutter in the sun

Like gems they glint and sparkle with each dance begun

But if they see you watching that spell they’ve cast will end

So lie quietly and watch over this mysterious glen

Along the country lane a hidden glen there lies

That magic place of fairies beneath the branches high

A little house beside the stream with shaded glades and lake

Wild flowers showing colours as their heads they gently shake

Look across the hedgerows to an experience so new

This privilege is given to the very few

 

Among the grasses they weave their spell

Dancing to the flute in that fairy dell

Little bodies writhing together in the sun

A life of joy and laughter happy everyone

The high note of the voices sounds just like the robin’s song

In a language down the ages to which we don’t belong

 

On branches sit an audience of birds and squirrels there

Each captured by the beauty of the scene they sit and stare

Wings of colourful gossamer flutter in the sun

Like gems they glint and sparkle with each dance begun

But if they see you watching that spell they’ve cast will end

So lie quietly and watch over this mysterious glen

Along the country lane a hidden glen there lies

That magic place of fairies beneath the branches high

A little house beside the stream with shaded glades and lake

Wild flowers showing colours as their heads they gently shake

Look across the hedgerows to an experience so new

This privilege is given to the very few

 

Among the grasses they weave their spell

Dancing to the flute in that fairy dell

Little bodies writhing together in the sun

A life of joy and laughter happy everyone

The high note of the voices sounds just like the robin’s song

In a language down the ages to which we don’t belong

 

On branches sit an audience of birds and squirrels there

Each captured by the beauty of the scene they sit and stare

Wings of colourful gossamer flutter in the sun

Like gems they glint and sparkle with each dance begun

But if they see you watching that spell they’ve cast will end

So lie quietly and watch over this mysterious glen

Along the country lane a hidden glen there lies

That magic place of fairies beneath the branches high

A little house beside the stream with shaded glades and lake

Wild flowers showing colours as their heads they gently shake

Look across the hedgerows to an experience so new

This privilege is given to the very few

 

Among the grasses they weave their spell

Dancing to the flute in that fairy dell

Little bodies writhing together in the sun

A life of joy and laughter happy everyone

The high note of the voices sounds just like the robin’s song

In a language down the ages to which we don’t belong

 

On branches sit an audience of birds and squirrels there

Each captured by the beauty of the scene they sit and stare

Wings of colourful gossamer flutter in the sun

Like gems they glint and sparkle with each dance begun

But if they see you watching that spell they’ve cast will end

So lie quietly and watch over this mysterious glen

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Writers Bio

I have been writing poetry for quite a few years

I enjoy the challenge of creating my verse especially from pictures

I live in Lisburn N Ireland and have been married for 51 years

I am a retired housewife and grandmother of Jacob and Jesse

 

 


Inspirational ImageImagine by Maggie Maggieby Maggie Maggie

Pieces Inspired by this Image

'Flying Lessons'
by Judy Shepps Battle

'Use Your Wings'
by Church Rowe

'Wings'
by Megan


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