I left the beaten track of usual Sunday strolls
and chanced upon a clear sweet stream
which through a swire ‘tween ancient hills did run.
My fancy had me follow and seeking,
I discovered, in a dappled glade, the source
of this bright water gushing forth from shining rocks.
Upon a knoll nearby there sat a wondrous elf
dressed all in green and leafy brown.
This elfish wright, wielding tiny hammer
to the sylvan rock bad me good day and
putting down his tools offered fairy bread
and mead as greeting to this stranger in his land.
I swear that time stood still that summer’s day
and oft’ have thought it all a dream, but for the
pocket full of elven riches that I found
‘pon my return