Anna Fitch: The Faeries' Fool

“Thus spake my faerie sponsors long ago,
Weaving wild spells that I might do their will:
(Laughing they spoke—and yet my mother wept,
Cuddling me closer still!)

“We name thee Fey-heart, little newborn soul—
Go thou and serve the world’s most foolish things:
Whistle through thumbs to moldy garden-seeds,
And brush the wood-gnat’s wings.

We give thee cobwebs and a reel of dreams
To pay the tavern’s score for wine and bread.
Go thou, small soul, and spend thy elfin coin,
And make thy storm-swept bed.””