A fairy band are we In fairy-land: Singing march we, hand in hand; Singing, singing all day long: (Some folk never heard a fairy-song!) Singing, singing, When the merry thrush is swinging On a springing spray; Or when the witch that lives in gloomy caves And creeps by night among the graves Calls a cloud across the day; Cease we never our fairy song, March we ever, along, along, Down the dale, or up the hill, Singing, singing still. And suddenly the Hermit turned and ran with all his might Through the back-door of his parlour as we thought of little Peterkin; And the great grey roof was shattered by a shower of rosy light, And the spider-house went floating, torn and tattered through the night In a flight of prismy streamers, as a shout went up for Peterkin; And lo, the glistening fairy-host stood there arrayed for fight, In arms of rose and green and gold, to lead us on to Peterkin. And all around us, rippling like a pearl and opal sea, The host of fairy faces winked a kindly hint of Peterkin; And all around the rosy glade a laugh of fairy glee Watched spider-streamers floating up from fragrant tree to tree Till the moonlight caught the gossamers and, oh we wished for Peterkin! Each rope became a rainbow; but it made us ache to see Such a fairy forest-pomp without explaining it to Peterkin. Then all the glittering crowd With a courtly gesture bowed Like a rosy jewelled cloud Round a flame, As the King of Fairy-land, Very dignified and grand, Stepped forward to demand Whence we came. He’d a cloak of gold and green Such as caterpillars spin, For the fairy ways, I ween, Are very frugal; He’d a bow that he had borne Since the crimson Eden morn, And a honeysuckle horn For his bugle. So we told our tale of faëry to the King of Fairy-land, And asked if he could let us know the latest news of Peterkin; And he turned him with a courtly smile and waved his jewelled wand And cried, Pease-blossom, Mustard-seed! You know the old command; Well; these are little children; you must lead them on to Peterkin. Then he knelt, the King of Faëry knelt; his eyes were great and grand As he took our hands and kissed them, saying, Father loves your Peterkin! So out they sprang, on either side, A light fantastic fairy guide, To lead us to the land unknown Where little Peterkin was gone; And, as we went with timid pace, We saw that every fairy face In all that moonlit host was wet With tears: we never shall forget The mystic hush that seemed to fade Away like sound, as down the glade We passed beyond their zone of light. Then through the forest’s purple night We trotted, at a pleasant speed, With gay Pease-blossom and Mustard-seed.