Down in the
reeds, if you look very close
If you hold your breath, don’t wriggle your toes!
If you’re ever so quiet, and ever so still,
See the Faery boat glide with a frog at the till.
He’s a
handsome chap, and well dressed you see.
He eats spiders, and ’squitos, and choc’late for tea
And goes floating by in his galleon gay.
Hush now! I am sure he is coming our way.
I hide here
each day, in the rushes and flags
’Neath the willow that roots in the damp mossy crags.
To glimpse as it passes, ever so near,
The craft that carries my bold buccaneer.
I saw him
first one summery day
When I came to the river, alone, to play.
He was moored at the edge and was bowing low
To the Queen of the Faeries and her maids in a row.
He gave her
his hand and with flowery speech
He offered to take her across to the Beach
That shaded the grass on the far river side.
She curtsied, and gladly accepted the ride.
He hoisted his
sail and cheerfully cried:
“Heave-ho my fair ship! Away we will glide.”
“O please,” I called after, “I’d like to come too.
There must be a way to be tiny like you?”
The Frog
looked thoughtful,
The Queen gently smiled.
“There’s room for a Pixie,
But not for a Child!”
And
so in the summer, I come here each day
To sing and to dance and to frolic and play.
But when all is still, I lie down to see
My frog, as he glides, ’neath the old Willow tree.
Fabian Writes
Home
