Do you believe in fairies?

Chapter 17: SUNDAY

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About This Book

A collection of short fantasies and lyrical poems written with a childlike eye, presenting whimsical encounters with fairies, goblins, and other small marvels set against ordinary streets and countryside. Narrative vignettes follow children and curious adults into secret glades, enchanted stones, and musical charms, while interleaved rhymes, ballades, and reflective sketches touch on adolescence, religion, city nights, and domestic humor. The pieces blend playful imagination with mild melancholy and moral observation, inviting readers to rediscover wonder in commonplace scenes through concise storylets and musical verse.

SUNDAY

A-top the palisades that touch the sky

Where friendly elms flirt with each passing cloud,

There let me lie—with Heaven for my shroud,

With Nature live, and close to Nature die.

I, too, would flirt with clouds that pass me by,

Holding my head aloft, my spirit proud,

Only by Nature’s wrath shall I be cowed,

Only by hand of Providence I die.

For Art we live, since Art is Nature’s toy,

Fashioned each man in mold almost the same ...

Religion, Nation, Race ... are things of name.

Cast these aside—God’s playthings are for joy.

Amongst the waves that vainly slap the shore,

Please God, help me to carry on some more.