Where do you think the Fairies goTo buy their blankets ere the snow?
When Autumn comes, with frosty daysThe sorry shivering little Fays
Begin to think it's time to creepDown to their caves for Winter sleep.
But first they come from far and nearTo buy, where shops are not too dear.
(The wind and frost bring prices down,So Fall's their time to come to town!)
Where on the hill-side rough and steepBrowse all day long the cows and sheep,
The mullein's yellow candles burnOver the heads of dry sweet fern:
All summer long the mullein weavesHis soft and thick and woolly leaves.
Warmer blankets were never seenThan these broad leaves of fuzzy green—
(The cost of each is but a shekelMade from the gold of honeysuckle!)
To buy their sheets and fine white lace(With which to trim a pillow-case),
They only have to go next door,Where stands a sleek brown spider's store,
And there they find the misty threadsReady to cut into sheets and spreads;
Then for a pillow, pluck with careSome soft-winged seeds as light as air;
Just what they want the thistle brings,But thistles are such surly things—
And so, though it is somewhat high,The clematis the Fairies buy.
The only bedsteads that they needAre silky pods of ripe milk-weed,
With hangings of the dearest things—Autumn leaves, or butterflies' wings!
And dandelions' fuzzy headsThey use to stuff their feather beds;
And yellow snapdragons supplyThe nightcaps that the Fairies buy,
To which some blades of grass they pin,And tie them 'neath each little chin.
Then, shopping done, the Fairies cry,"Our Summer's gone! oh sweet, good-bye!"
And sadly to their caves they go,To hide away from Winter's snow—
And then, though winds and storms may beat,The Fairies' sleep is warm and sweet!