Faery Tales
by Susan Dirks-Henry
Very long ago, on a Celtic isle of old,
There lived a young maiden,
whose name I'm not told,
Though she worked hard by day,
and played harp at night,
To the moon and the stars,
forever shining bright.
Twas on such an eve that my story, it does start,
When a small, golden butterfly,
flittered past her heart,
The butterfly she did follow,
deep into the wood,
Whilst her parents, they did
slumber, she never wondered if she should.
Deep into the wood, the butterfly did go,
Until they saw, the creatures
all, gathered in a grove,
And the music that they made,
like magic filled the air,
Was this just a dream? Or was
she really there?
Then the butterfly, began to change and glow,
One of the Good Folk, she nowdid
know,
He said, "Be not afraid, for we
are your friends,
For the magic of the harp, we
see right in your hands."
For seven long years, the maid she did stay,
Seven long years unto the very
day,
Learning the magic of the harp,
She learned that true magic only
comes from your heart.
But the day it did come, for the maid to say good-bye,
My harp, my magic, I must share,
she said with tears in her eye.
For it is here, that my story it does end,
As her adventures, only did
begin,
So, share the magic, that your
heart does hold,
For it is you we need, in this
world that's sometimes cold.
****************************************************
Fairy tale by Doris Diedrich, translation assistance: Susan Dirks Henry
Long ago, one day in the cold of Winter, a little old witch was sitting in front
of her chimney and playing on her harp..
*Pling, plang, harping along*
As she was playing, whe was
dreaming and drifting. As she dreamed, so the melody that she played changed: As
she dreamed of summer, her melody was warm and firey and happy and wild. The
fire heard it and danced so happily to the music that a spark flew out of the
chimney into the cold winter night.
As the witch dreamed of the wind, her harp playing sounded sometimes soft,
sometimes complaining, and sometimes as cold and wild as the winter wind.
The wind outside heard her play
and began to dance with the spark in the cold Winter's night.
Then the witch's dream changed again, and she dreamed of the earth.
And so her melody sounded like a
cradle song, as mild and protecting.
Outside in the forrest, the wild
animals, sleeping in their lairs heard her play and had dreams of green trees
and meadows. The earth, who always feels with her children, heard their dreams
and sent an autumnleaf, to see what happened. The leaf came and joined in the
dance of the wind and the spark as they danced around to the harp music as soft
or wild as the witch played.
Again, the witch's dream changed: now it was a dream of water, falling from heaven as snow in the winter, as rain in summer and as a stream whispers along like her harp was whispering now.
The snow outside heard it and joined the dance. Now they were all there dancing
around in that winter's night.
And as the witch's dream changed
again, she dreamed of an animal as beautiful as you could ever think of!
In the same moment, the spark,
the snow, the wind and the leaf joined into one amidst the harp music and
"puff!" the first dragon was born.
This is the reason why dragons always play the harp!
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Two little boys were at play one day when a Fairy suddenly appeared before them and said: "I have been sent to give you New Year presents."
She handed to each child a package, and in an instant was gone.
Carl and Philip opened the packages and found in them two beautiful books, with pages as pure and white as the snow when it first falls.
Many months passed and the Fairy came again to the boys. "I have brought you each another book?" said she, "and will take the first ones back to Father Time who sent them to you."
"May I not keep mine a little longer?" asked Philip. "I have hardly thought about it lately. I 'd like to paint something on the last leaf that lies open."
"No," said the Fairy; "I must take it just as it is."
"I wish that I could look through mine just once," said Carl; "I have only seen one page at a time, for when the leaf turns over it sticks fast, and I can never open the book at more than one place each day."
"You shall look at your book," said the Fairy, "and Philip, at his." And she lit for them two little silver lamps, by the light of which they saw the pages as she turned them.
The boys looked in wonder. Could it be that these were the same fair books she had given them a year ago? Where were the clean, white pages, as pure and beautiful as the snow when it first falls? Here was a page with ugly, black spots and scratches upon it; while the very next page showed a lovely little picture. Some pages were decorated with gold and silver and gorgeous colors, others with beautiful flowers, and still others with a rainbow of softest, most delicate brightness. Yet even on the most beautiful of the pages there were ugly blots and scratches.
Carl and Philip looked up at the Fairy at last.
"Who did this?" they asked. "Every page was white and fair as we opened to it; yet now there is not a single blank place in the whole book!"
"Shall I explain some of the pictures to you?" said the Fairy, smiling at the two little boys.
"See, Philip, the spray of roses blossomed on this page when you let the baby have your playthings; and this pretty bird, that looks as if it were singing with all its might, would never have been on this page if you had not tried to be kind and pleasant the other day, instead of quarreling."
"But what makes this blot?" asked Philip.
"That," said the Fairy sadly; "that came when you told an untruth one day, and this when you did not mind mamma. All these blots and scratches that look so ugly, both in your book and in Carl's, were made when you were naughty. Each pretty thing in your books came on its page when you were good."
"Oh, if we could only have the books again!" said Carl and Philip.
"That cannot be," said the Fairy. "See! they are dated for this year, and they must now go back into Father Time's bookcase, but I have brought you each a new one. Perhaps you can make these more beautiful than the others."
So saying, she vanished, and the boys were left alone, but each held in his hand a new book open at the first page.
And on the back of this book was written in letters of gold, "For the New Year."
THE END
Thanks to: http://www.foundus.com/faerie/index.html