The Pink Fairies

Early in the mornings,
when children still are sleeping,
Or late, late at night-time,
beneath the summer moon,
What are they doing,
the busy fairy people?
Could you creep to spy them,
in silent magic shoon,

You might learn a secret,
among the garden borders,
Something never guessed at,
that no one knows or thinks:
Snip, snip, snip, go busy fairy scissors,
Pinking out the edges
of the petals of the Pinks!

Pink Pinks, white Pinks,
double Pinks, and single,—
Look at them and see
if it’s not the truth I tell!
Why call them Pinks
if they weren’t pinked out by someone?
And what but fairy scissors
could pink them out so well?