Lighter than moonbeams that settle on leaves
These tiny bright dancers spin round,
Moving together with fleetness of foot
Their actions not making a sound,
As they twirl and they spin with the grace of a reed,
The woodland seems caught in their spell,
Not a creature is stirring, not call from a bird
As they watch in the quiet of the dell.
Twisting and turning these colourful sprites
Perform a ballet of infinite grace
With the wonders of nature to use as their stage
They bring magic to this lonely place,
But as dawn begins breaking into their world,
And a chorus of birds start to sing,
All that remains of the pageant that night
Are some toadstool arranged in a ring.
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