by Rose Fyleman (1877-1957)
Spindle-wood, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray,
A little flaming lantern to light me on my way?
The fairy folk have vanished from the meadow and the glen,
And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again;
Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light
To show the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night.
Ash tree, ash tree, throw me, if you please,
Throw me down a slender bunch of russet-gold keys;
I fear the gates of fairyland may all be shut fast;
Give me of your magic keys that I may get past;
I’ll tie them to my girdle, that as I go along
My heart may find a comfort in their tiny tinkling song.
Holy bush, holly bush, help me in my task,
A pocket full of berries is all the alms I ask;
A pocket full of berries to thread in glowing strands
(I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands);
So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright,
They’ll set the realms of fairyland a-dancing with delight.