Ailbhe & Ardál

May 25, 2019

SUMMER MORNING

The air around was trembling-bright

And full of dancing specks of light,

While butterflies were dancing too

Between the shining green and blue.

I might not watch, I might not stay,

I ran along the meadow way.

The straggling brambles caught my feet,

The clover field was, oh! so sweet;

I heard a singing in the sky,

And busy things went buzzing by;

And how it came I cannot tell,

But all the hedges sang as well.

Along the clover-field I ran

To where the little wood began,

And there I understood at last

Why I had come so far, so fast—

On every leaf of every tree

A fairy sat and smiled at me!

—Rose Fyleman

Gentle Ailbhe & Ardál are there in the trees, if you know where to look. They love to hide in the old maple and watch the children passing far below. Sometimes Ailbhe lets fall a small faerie token, a tiny band of gold or little silver charm. So if you hear the leaves rustling on a still afternoon, look up and you may just see them there, smiling down.

Ailbhe & Ardál are a bespoke piece.

Máire & Astrid

April 8, 2019

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.

W.B Yeats