Сесиль Мэри Баркер — английская художница и поэтесса, известная у нас в первую очередь своими совершенно волшебными рисунками фей.
Первая книга Баркер ("Цветочные феи весны" была опубликована только в 1923 году, на волне буйно расцветшей моды на фей. С легкой руки королевы Марии (любительницы кукольных домиков ), которая рассылала измученным Первой мировой друзьям открытки с жизнерадостными и невинными феечками, книги Баркер (целых 8 штук) и открытки с её рисунками стали невероятно популярны. Надо сказать, что все феи рисовались Баркер с натуры, с воспитанников детского сада, которым заведовала её сестра.©
Елена Фельдман переводит стихотворения Баркер на русский язык. Почитать можно, например, здесь.
NB! Отлично запоминаются названия растений
Flower Fairies of the Spring
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The Song of the Crocus Fairies
Crocus of yellow, new and gay;
Mauve and purple. In brave array,
Crocus white
Like a cup of light —
Hundreds of them smiling up
Each with a flame in its shining cup,
By the touch of the warm and welcome sun
Opened suddenly, Springs begun!
Dance then fairies, for joy and sing
The song of the coming again of Spring.
The Song of the Colt's-Foot Fairy
The winds of March are keen and cold;
I fear them not, for I am bold.
I wait not for my leaves to grow;
They follow after: they are slow.
My yellow blooms are brave and bright;
I greet the Spring with all my might.
The Song of the Celandine Fairy
Before the hawthorn leaves unfold,
Or buttercups put forth their gold,
By every sunny footpath shine
The stars of Lesser Celandine.
The Song Of The Willow-Catkin Fairy
The people call me Palm, they do;
They call me Pussy-willow too.
And when I'm full in bloom, the bees
Come humming round my yellow trees.
The people trample round about
And spoil the little trees, and shout;
My shiny twigs are thin and brown:
The people pull and break them down.
To keep a Holy Feast, they say,
They take my pretty boughs away.
I should be glad — I should not mind
If only people weren't unkind.
Oh, you may pick a piece, you may
(So dear and silky, soft and grey);
But if you're rough and greedy, why
You'll make the little fairies cry.
The Song Of The Windflower Fairy
While human-folk slumber,
The fairies espy
Stars without number
Sprinkling the sky.
The Winter's long sleeping,
Like night-time, is done;
But day-stars are leaping
To welcome the sun.
Star-like they sprinkle
The wildwood with light;
Countless they twinkle
The Windflowers white!
The Song of the Daisy Fairy
Come to me and play with me,
I'm the babies flower,
Make a necklace gay with me,
Spend the whole long day with me,
Till the sunset hour.
I must say Good-night, you know,
Till tomorrow's playtime;
Close my petals tight, you know,
Shut the red and white, you know,
Sleeping till the daytime.
The Song of the Dandelion Fairy
Here's the Dandelion's rhyme:
See my leaves with tooth-like edges;
Blow my clocks to tell the time;
See me flaunting by the hedges,
In the meadow, in the lane,
Gay and naughty in the garden;
Pull me up — I grow again,
Asking neither leave nor pardon.
Sillies, what are you about
With your spades and hoes of iron?
You can never drive me out —
Me, the dauntless Dandelion!
The Song of the Daffodil Fairy
I'm everyone's darling: the blackbird and starling
Are shouting about me from blossoming boughs;
For I, the Lent Lily, the Daffy-down-dilly,
Have heard through the country the call to arouse.
The orchards are ringing with voices a-singing
The praise of my petticoat, praise of my gown;
The children are playing, and hark! they are saying
That Daffy-down-dilly is come up to town!
The Song of the Dog-violet Fairy
The wren and robin hop around;
The primrose-maids my neighbours be;
The sun has warmed the mossy ground;
Where Spring has come I too am found:
The Cuckoo’s call has wakened me!
The Song of the Primrose Fairy
The Primrose opens wide in spring;
Her scent is sweet and good:
It smells of every happy thing
In sunny lane and wood.
I have not half the skill to sing
And praise her as I should.
She's dear to folk throughout the land;
In her is nothing mean:
She freely spreads on every hand
Her petals pale and clean.
And though she's neither proud nor grand,
She is the Country Queen.
The Song of the Lady's Smock Fairy
Where the grass is damp and green,
Where the shallow streams are flowing,
Where the cowslip buds are showing,
I am seen.
Dainty as a fairy's frock,
White or mauve, of elfin sewing,
'Tis the meadow-maiden growing —
Lady's-smock.
The Song of the Larch Fairy
Sing a song of Larch trees
Loved by fairy-folk;
Dark stands the pinewood,
Bare stands the oak,
But the Larch is dressed and trimmed
Fit for fairy-folk!
Sing a song of Larch trees,
Sprays that swing aloft,
Pink tufts, and tassels
Grass-green and soft:
All to please the little elves
Singing songs aloft!
The Song of the Bluebell Fairy
My hundred thousand bells of blue,
The splendour of the Spring,
They carpet all the woods anew
With royalty of sapphire hue;
The Primrose is the Queen, 'tis true.
But surely I am King!
Ah yes,
The peerless Woodland King!
Loud, loud the thrushes sing their song;
The bluebell woods are wide;
My stems are tall and straight and strong;
From ugly streets the children throng,
They gather armfuls, great and long,
Then home they troop in pride
Ah yes,
With laughter and with pride!
The Song of the Stitchwort Fairy
I am brittle-stemmed and slender,
But the grass is my defender.
On the banks where grass is long,
I can stand erect and strong.
All my mass of starry faces
Looking up from wayside places,
From the thick and tangled grass,
Gives you greeting as you pass.
The Song of the Wood-sorrel Fairy
In the wood the trees are tall,
Up and up they tower;
You and I are very small —
Fairy-child and flower.
Bracken stalks are shooting high,
Far and far above us;
We are little, you and I,
But the fairies love us.
The Song of the Speedwell Fairy
Clear blue are the skies;
My petals are blue;
As beautiful, too,
As bluest of eyes.
The heavens are high:
By the field-path I grow
Where way farers go,
And "Good speed," say I;
"See, here is a prize
Of wonderful worth:
A weed of the earth,
As blue as the skies!"
The Song of the Lords-and-Ladies Fairy
Here's the song of the Lords-and-Ladies
(in the damp ans shade he grows):
I have neither bells nor petals,
like the foxglove or the rose.
Through the length and breadth of England,
many flowers you may see —
Petals, bells, and cups in plenty —
but there's no one else like me.
In the hot-house dwells my kinsman,
Arum-lily, white and fine;
I am not so tall ans stately,
but the quaintest hood is mine;
And my glossy leaves are handsome;
I've a spike to make you stare;
And my berries are a glory in September.
(BUT BEWARE!)
The Song of the Cowslip Fairy
The land is full of happy birds
And flocks of sheep and grazing herds.
I hear the songs of larks that fly
Above me in the breezy sky.
I hear the little lambkins bleat;
My honey-scent is rich and sweet.
Beneath the sun I dance and play
In April and in merry May.
The grass is green as green can be;
The children shout at sight of me.
The Song of the Heart's-ease Fairy
Like the richest velvet
(I've heard the fairies tell)
Grow the handsome pansies
within the garden wall;
When you praise their beauty,
remember me as well —
Think of little Heart's-ease,
the brother of them all!
Come away and seek me
when the year is young,
Through the open ploughlands
beyond the garden wall;
Many names are pretty
and many songs are sung:
Mine — because I'm Heart's-ease —
are prettiest of all!
The Song of the May Fairy
My buds, they cluster small and green;
The sunshine gaineth heat:
Soon shall the hawthorn tree be clothed
As with a snowy sheet.
O magic sight, the hedge is white,
My scent is very sweet;
And lo, where I am come indeed,
The Spring and Summer meet.