When I walk at night,
I never take a light,
For there are fairies, yet
Beyond the rim of lamplight, I bet.
They are on the flowers,dancing,
Dressed in purple frocks and prancing,
The dryads of the trees have all come out
Watching me and fluttering all about.
All the spirits of the flowers
And the elfkin in their bowers
Dance in the silver moonlight
In the magical hour in night.
For in their enchanted night
They revel ... oh, what a sight
But only those who live in fairyland, see it
For the magic is only for the gentle, to meet it.