Beneath the weeping willow boughs
And silken rows of snow white clouds
Amidst the mossy tapestry
The tiny brooks and tree root weave

The fairy children laugh and sing
As if the world were ever spring
As if the world would rest a while
To wait for someone shy to smile

But even there, in twilight hours
The evening folds the wildflowers
And fairy children snuggle tight
When mother nature dims the light.