Song of Fey Cross
By Gwen Knighton
Pegasus Award Nominee!
Outside of our town, at the edge of the forest
Two roads come together, they call it Fey Cross
And there at the crossroads, away from the roadside
There's an odd mound of granite all covered with moss
Oh, soft is the pillow, all green and inviting
Sweet is the sound of a new faery tune
But beware of the voices that call you to sleep there
That call you to dream 'neath the light of the moon.
The old people say there is music at Fey Cross
Music to call travelers off of the road
That calls them to sleep on the moss-covered hillside
And dream of the magical music below
The story is told of a sweet harper maiden
Who longed to know more than her master bestowed
She slept on the hill and the faeries sang to her
The first night a dance and the second an ode
Again and again she went back to the hillside
Ignoring the warnings her elders implored
Night after night, the fey songs touched her heartstrings:
She learned them all greedily, longing for more
Her voice rang like silver, her steps turned to marches
She did her chores gladly in three-quarter time
She stepped through the village and dreamed of the fey songs
Of dancing, of chanting, of cadence and rhyme.
Each night she slept out on the hill by the crossroads
She stayed every night for a year and a day
But one night, as she lay there peacefully dreaming
A wee faery bard came and whisked her away
They sing of her still in the town at the crossroads
The harper who longed to learn the fey songs
And all of the children grow up with this warning:
"Don't listen at all: you may listen to long."
I see that you've slept seven nights on the hillside
I know your blood sings with beautiful songs
But hear now the voice of that foolish young harper
Who listened, who listened, who listened too long.