Ghost Fairies

When the open fire is lit,

In the evening after tea,

Then I like to come and sit

Where the fire can talk to me.

Fairy stories it can tell,

Tales of a forgotten race,—

Of the fairy ghosts that dwell

In the ancient chimney place.

They are quite the strangest folk

Anybody ever knew,

Shapes of shadow and of smoke

Living in the chimney flue.

"Once," the fire said, "long ago,

With the wind they used to rove,

Gypsy fairies, to and fro,

Camping in the field and grove.

"Hither with the trees they came

Hidden in the logs; and here,

Hovering above the flame,

Often some of them appear."

So I watch, and, sure enough,

I can see the fairies! Then,

Suddenly there comes a puff—

Whish!—and they are gone again!