Garden Melodies

There is silence in the garden,
Dreaming flowers and bees and trees
There is really nothing stirring
That a mortal hears or sees.
Yet, from the shady bowers
‘Tween the grasses and the flowers,
Sweet cadences are flowing,
And faeryland is knowing,
There is really music borne upon the breeze.
They may always stay to listen,
To a harp of silver lace,
Where a spider's web lies hidden
Beneath a green leaf's face;
And where a captive thistledown
Is caught upon a thorn,
They hear the angry argument
‘Til from its prison torn.
The blue bells chime the hours
To mark the passing day
While golden yellow pollen falls
Like rain along the way.
The whirring of a butterfly,
The stirring of a bird,
Are only faery whisperings,
All faeryland has heard.
There is silence in the garden,
Dreaming flowers and bees and trees,
But did you know that faeries
Hear all these harmonies?

Olive I.