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by Rose Waldo
My kite grabbed on a gusty gale
And took a wild and windy sail.
I held on tight while it flew far
To where the elves and fairies are.
And when I drew it back to me
It told of things I’d like to see;
And if you’ll listen I’ll tell you
A tale my kite told, maybe two.
Why, one time pussy-willows were
The baby fairies’ coats of fur;
And there’s a fairy wishing well
Hid in the ferns of Dingle Dell;
And what you wish in it comes true,
I wish that I could wish a few.
I’d wish as sure as anything
That all the year were made of spring.
Then I could sail my kite away
For fairy secrets every day.