The Faery Catcher - by James Browne - Size: 12 x 16
When the sun goes to sleep for a long night's rest,
And the moon creeps above the old spruce forest,
As the faeries come out for their nighttime frolic,
Down to the meadow lake comes little Lewis Cowlick.
By the side of the dirt path, in a cluster so tight,
The old beeches look on, some with ill humor, some with delight.
He'll never catch them as hard as he tries.
Just as he nears one, the little faery flies.
They laugh and they chatter as he runs all about,
With net in hand and an occasional shout,
"I'll catch you, just see, I will!"
And they laugh even harder, the chase, the fun, oh what a thrill!
A voice from over the hill calls, "Lewis, it’s time for bed!"
Home he scurries, a little sweat on his head.
Mom meets him at the door with a smile and a hug.
To his room he goes, clothes fall on the rug.
He finally lays down after his last drink of water,
Sleepily thinking, " 'Twas a night of fun and laughter.”
Now all say, "Goodnight," to Lewis, the Faery Catcher.
© Written by D. R. Hartle
Story included with print!
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