An isle of trees full foliaged in a meadow,
Along whose quiet grassy shores below
The white sheep bathe in level lengths of shadow,
And sweet airs amiable as summer blow
Warmly and faint among the happy leaves,
Loving each other in a green repose
Folded; or waking in the slumbrous glow
Where the wind passing, indolently weaves
A net of lazy listless whisperings,
Most like the liquid lullaby of springs
Pulsing demure and quaintly in some cool
Dell of the woods; unseen save of some ray
Piercing the boughs, having somewhat to say
To fairies couched on bubbles round the pool.
Thomas Caulfield Irwin
Lois Elsden 
I still believe in fairies. They whisper in my ear, to remind me there’s little time left to pick up some beer. Gotta love em.
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Gotta love fairies!
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My favorite jokes are about magic lamps and genies. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for!
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Impossible to get that genie back in the lamp once he’s out!
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