In the quiet span of evening,
When the moon’s about to rise,
I sometimes think I hear the whisper
Of the fairies' tempting lies.
Just little whispers of the pleasures
Only they can bring to me,
Like dancing on the frothy waters
Of the dark’ning moonlit sea;
Or sipping nectar from the blossoms
Growing down below the stream
Where the frogs and crickets murmur
In their sleepy starlight dream.
Bright founts of starlight splash the grasses
Where they dance without a trace;
Weaving seductively through shadows
Long enthralled by their embrace.
Oh how I long to heed their whispers,
Join them where the moonlight sways;
Dancing, lost in light ethereal,
Where the restless streamlet plays.
But I am not formed out of moonlight,
I can’t dance the starlight sea,
And all the dreaming frogs and crickets,
Never will they dream of me.
For I am bound to live in daylight,
Toiling neath the glaring sun,
And only listening for whispers
Just as moonrise has begun.
