What's this about?

My friend, Jim, tells me he is working on a collection of poems he has enjoyed over the years.  It seems like a great idea so, without trying to steal his thunder, I thought I would gather together some poems which have meant something to me and share them with anyone who might find them interesting.

I'm going to start with a poem I would have been introduced to in my first school in Blantyre.  It's called Fairies by William Allingham, an Irish poet:

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!

It's longer than this but children weren't introduced to the later verses, as they start to become a little more challenging.

High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and grey
He’s nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with the music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.

Then it begins to become downright creepy and liable to give children nightmares:

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of fig-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

Still, the first verse has been taught to several generations of children, probably with no ill effects. 

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