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James Whitcomb Riley - A Home-Made Fairy Tale
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Bud, come here to your uncle a spell,
And I`ll tell you something you mustn`t tell--
For it`s a secret and shore-`nuf true,
And maybe I oughtn`t to tell it to you--!
But out in the garden, under the shade
Of the apple-trees, where we romped and played
Till the moon was up, and you thought I`d gone
Fast asleep--, That was all put on!
For I was a-watchin` something queer
Goin` on there in the grass, my dear--!
`Way down deep in it, there I see
A little dude-Fairy who winked at me,
And snapped his fingers, and laughed as low
And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to!
I kept still-- watchin` him closer-- and
I noticed a little guitar in his hand,
Which he leant `ginst a little dead bee-- and laid
His cigarette down on a clean grass-blade,
And then climbed up on the shell of a snail--
Carefully dusting his swallowtail--
And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread,
This little guitar, you remember. I said!
And there he trinkled and trilled a tune--,
"My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon!"
Till presently, out of the clover-top
He seemed to be singing to, came k`pop!
The purtiest, daintiest Fairy face
In all this world, or any place!
Then the little ser`nader waved his hand,
As much as to say, "We`ll excuse you!" and
I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to,
A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew!
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