Oh Where Do Fairies Hide

Oh, where do fairies hide their heads
When snow lies on the hills,
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds,
And crystallized their rills?

Beneath the moon they can not trip
In circles o'er the plain;
And draughts of dew they cannot sip,
Till green leaves come again.

Perhaps in small blue diving bells,
They plunge beneath the waves,
Inhabiting the twisted shells
That lie in coral caves.

Perhaps in red Vesuvius,
Carousals they maintain;
And cheer their drooping spirits thus,
Till green leaves come again.

When they return there will be mirth,
And music in the air,
And fairy wings upon the earth,
And mischief everywhere.

The maids, to keep the elves aloof,
Will bar the doors in vain;
No keyhole will be fairy proof,
When green leaves come again.