Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done, Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun?

And though you should live in a palace of gold, or sleep in a dried up ditch, You could never be as poor as the fairies are, and never as rich.

Deaf folk hear the fairies However soft their song; 'Tis we who lose the honey sound Amid the clamor all around That beats the whole day long.

Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done, Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun?

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden.