Pixies In Poetry

American Poet Samuel Minturn Peck (1854-1886) wrote this short poem entitled Pixies,
 

‘Tis said their forms are tiny, yet
All human ills they can subdue,
Or with a wand or amulet
Can win a maiden’s heart for you;
And many a blessing know to stew
To make to wedlock bright;
Give honour to the dainty crew,
The Pixies are abroad tonight.

English poet, Nora Chesson (1871-1906) summarized Pixie mythology in her Poem entitled, The Pixies:

Have e’er you seen the Pixies, the fold not blest or banned?

They walk upon the waters; they sail upon the land,
They make the green grass greener where’er their footsteps fall,
The wildest hind in the forest comes at their call.
They steal from bolted linneys, they milk the key at grass,
The maids are kissed a-milking, and no one hears them pass.
They flit from byre to stable and ride unbroken foals,
They seek out human lovers to win them souls.
The Pixies know no sorrow, the Pixies feel no fear,
They take no care for harvest or seedtime of the year;
Age lays no finger on them, the reaper time goes by
The Pixies, they who change not, grow old or die.
The Pixies though they love us, behold us pass away,
And are not sad for flowers they gathered yesterday,
To-day has crimson foxglove.
If purple hose-in-hose withered last night
To-morrow will have its rose.

American author James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916), also author of “Raggedy Man” and “Little Orphan Annie” also wrote a poem about pixies entitled, The Pixy People

Through the breezy mazes
Of the lazy June,
Drowsy with the hazes,
Of the dreamy noon,

Little Pixy people
Winged above the walk,
Pouring from the steeple
Of a mullein-stalk.

One a gallant fellow
Evidently King,
Wore a plume of yellow
In a jeweled ring

On a pansy bonnet,
Gold and white and blue,
With the dew still on it,
And the fragrance, too.


One a dainty lady,
Evidently Queen,
Wore a gown of shady
Moonshine and green,

With a lace of gleaming
Starlight that sent
All the dewdrops dreaming
Everywhere she went.

One wore a waistcoat
Of roseleaves, out and in,
And one wore a faced-coat
Of tiger-lily-skin;

And one wore a neat coat
Of palest galingale;
And one a tiny street-coat,
And one a swallow tail.

And Ho! sang the King of them,
And Hey! sang the Queen;
And round and round the ring of them
Went dancing o'er the green;

And Hey! sang the Queen of them,
And Ho! sang the King
And all that I had seen of them
Wasn't anything!

It was just a very
Merry fairy dream!
All the woods were airy
With the gloom and gleam;

Crickets in the clover
Clattered clear and strong,
And the bees droned over
Their old honey-song!