Fairies!--whatsoever sprite
Near about us dwells--
You who roam the hills at night,
You who haunt the dells--
Where you harbour, hear us!
By the Lady Hecate's might,
Hearken and come near us!

Though we greatly fear, alack!
Cloddish unbelief
Angered you and made you pack
To our present grief,
Hearts you shall not harden:
Bathe your hurts and come you back
Here to house and garden!

By the oak and ash and thorn,
By the rowan tree,
This was done ere we were born:
Kith nor kin are we
Of the folk whose blindness
Shut you out with scathe and scorn,
Banished with unkindness.

See, we call you, hands entwined,
Standing at our door,
With the glowing hearth behind
And the wood before.
Thence, where you are lurking,