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The Song of the Pink Fairies
Early in the mornings,
when children still are sleeping,
Or late, late at night-time,
beneath the summer moon,
What are they doing,
the busy fairy people?
Could you creep to spy them,
in silent magic shoon,
You might learn a secret,
among the garden borders,
Something never guessed at,
that no one knows or thinks:
Snip, snip, snip, go busy fairy scissors,
Pinking out the edges
of the petals of the Pinks!
Pink Pinks, white Pinks,
double Pinks, and single,--
Look at them and see
if it's not the truth I tell!
Why call them Pinks
if they weren't pinked out by someone?
And what but fairy scissors
could pink them out so well?
