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John Thorne


In Midas’ well of molten gold
There lived an ancient fire-fairy
Who, though both wise and old
Was always joyful and always merry

Every morning, to greet the dawn
She’d fly upon her golden wings
And then a sweet and simple song
She would unfailing sing

Then back down to the sea of gold
Would fly this ancient fire-fairy
And when the morning bell was tolled
She’d break her fast upon a fire-cherry

The fire-cherry tree’s a wondrous thing–
A little gold trunk and fiery leaves
And upon each bough a tiny bird to sing
Of magic forests and golden trees

At noon, Midas would seek her out
They’d speak of matters large and small
And if Midas had a fear, a doubt
She’d lend her thoughts on each and all

For Midas always trusted her–
Her sweet and gold-pure wisdom
She was his truest counselor–
Upon his golden hand the crucial thumb

But even more than kings and gold
She loved to tell the children tales
She told them of the heroes old
Of the knight of golden sword and silver mail

And she’d tell of proud and humble queens
Of fiery dragons and noble kings
Of the Isle of Enchanted Dreams
And of the goodness of all things

Then she’d send them all away
Back to their home and bed
And with the ending of the day
She’d bow her tiny head

She’d shut her eyes and pray
Upon the setting of the sun so gold
Giving thanks for another day
Or, at least, so it’s told

In Midas’ well of molten gold
There lived an ancient fire-fairy
Who was cast out into the cold
When came the king his gold to bury

Submitted: Thursday, October 10, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013

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