My conkers, they are shiny things,
And things of mighty joy,
And they are like the wealth of kings
To every little boy;
I see the upturned face of each
Who stands around the tree:
He sees his treasure out of reach,
But does not notice me.
For love of conkers bright and brown,
He pelts the tree all day;
With stones and sticks he knocks them down,
And thinks it jolly play.
But sometimes I, the elf, am hit
Until I’m black and blue;
O laddies, only wait a bit,
I’ll shake them down to you!
To English folk the mighty oak
Is England’s noblest tree;
Its hard-grained wood is strong and good
As English hearts can be.
And would you know how oak-trees grow,
The secret may be told:
You do but need to plant for seed
One acorn in the mould;
For even so, long years ago,
Were born the oaks of old.
I was a warrior,
When, long ago,
Arrows of Dogwood
Flew from the bow.
Go up and down,
Not one remembering
My old renown.
Yet when the Autumn sun
Colours the trees,
Should you come seeking me,
Know me by these:
Bronze leaves and crimson leaves,
Soon to be shed;
Dark little berries,
On stalks turning red.
“When gorse is out of blossom,”
(Its prickles bare of gold)
“Then kissing’s out of fashion,”
Said country-folk of old.
Now Gorse is in its glory
In May when skies are blue,
But when its time is over,
Whatever shall we do?
O dreary would the world be,
With everyone grown cold—
Forlorn as prickly bushes
Without their fairy gold!
But this will never happen:
At every time of year
You’ll find one bit of blossom—
A kiss from someone dear!
Have you pennies? I have many:
Each round leaf of mine’s a penny,
Two and two along the stem—
Such a business, counting them!
(While I talk, and while you listen,
Notice how the green leaves glisten,
Also every flower-cup:
Don’t I keep them polished up?)
Have you one name? I have many:
“Wandering Sailor”, “Creeping Jenny”,
“Money-wort”, and of the rest
“Strings of Sovereigns” is the best,
(That’s my yellow flowers, you see.)
“Meadow Runagates” is me,
And “Herb Twopence”. Tell me which
Show I stray, and show I’m rich?
I am Iris: I’m the daughter
Of the marshland and the water.
Looking down, I see the gleam
Of the clear and peaceful stream;
Water-lilies large and fair
With their leaves are floating there;
All the water-world I see,
And my own face smiles at me!
I am Mallow; here sit I
Watching all the passers-by.
Though my leaves are torn and tattered,
See, my seeds are fairy cheeses,
Freshest, finest, fairy cheeses!
These are what an elf will munch
For his supper or his lunch.
Fairy housewives, going down
To their busy market-town,
Hear me wheedling: “Lady, please,
Pretty lady, buy a cheese!”
And I never find it matters
That I’m nicknamed Rags-and-Tatters,
For they buy my fairy cheeses,
Freshest, finest, fairy cheeses!
The families of orchids,
they are the strangest clan,
With spots and twists resembling
a bee, or fly, or man;
And some are in the hot-house,
and some in foreign lands,
But Early Purple Orchis
in English pasture stands.
He loves the grassy hill-top,
he breathes the April air;
He knows the baby rabbits,
he knows the Easter hare,
The nesting of the skylarks,
the bleat of lambkins too,
The cowslips, and the rainbow,
the sunshine, and the dew.
O orchids of the hot-house,
what miles away you are!
O flaming tropic orchids,
how far, how very far!
Now will we tell of splendid things:
Seagulls, that sail on fearless wings
Where great cliffs tower, grand and high
Against the blue, blue summer sky.
Where none but birds (and sprites) can go.
Oh there the rosy sea-pinks grow,
(Sea-pinks, whose other name is Thrift);
They fill each crevice, chink, and rift
Where no one climbs; and at the top,
Too near the edge for sheep to crop,
Thick in the grass pink patches show.
The sea lies sparkling far below.
Oh lucky Thrift, to live so free
Between blue sky and bluer sea!
Poor little U
Has nothing to do!
He hasn’t a flower: not one.
For U is Unlucky, I’m sorry to tell;
U stands for Unfortunate, Ugly as well;
No single sweet flowery name will it spell—
Is there nothing at all to be done?
“Don’t fret, little neighbour,”
says kind fairy V,
“You’re welcome to share
all my flowers with me—
Come, play with them, laugh, and have fun.
I’ve Vetches in plenty for me and for you,
Verbena, Valerian, Violets too:
Don’t cry then, because you have none.”
You saucy X! You love to vex
Your next-door neighbour Y:
And just because no flower is yours,
You tease him on the sly.
Straight, yellow, tall,—of Nettles all,
The handsomest is his;
He thinks no ill, and wonders still
What all your mischief is.
Yet have a care! Bad imp, beware
His upraised hand and arm:
Though stingless, he comes leaping—see!—
To save his flower from harm.
Skillman, a Japanese partner, have created range of Flower Fairies items for personal name seals (in Japanese, ‘inkan’), including the seals, seal cases, and stamping mats.
The name seal not only has a Flower Fairies design on the side, but also includes a flower within the stamp design itself. Every time you stamp your name with this seal, it is sure to brighten your spirits! The seal case and the stamping mat are also personalised, so you can create your very own name seal set.
49 and Market, a paper goods wholesaler specializing in high-quality products to fit the needs and wants of today’s crafters, have created a beautiful range of papers using designs, patterns and fairies from Flower Fairies of the Spring.
These are available in the US and Canada, and you can see the full set on their website at 49andmarket.com