The Land of Fairy Tales

The Land of Fairy Tales

At the end of the world is a country fair,
Forests and mountains and dales;
And a wizard, who lives in a turret there,
Sits spinning the fairy tales
From gossamer webbing lighter than air,
Blown there on the scented gales--

From the magical East's enchanted glare,
From palaces haunted and dim,
Old stories of princes and ladies fair
And genies and giants grimm,
And the glittering dragon's secret lair,
Blown over the world's great rim.

And he weaves them into a web of dreams
When the stars begin to peep,
And sets them loose 'neath their pale wee gleams
On the silent tides of sleep,
And swift they float on those wonderful streams
And into folk's dreams they creep.

And all the tales we read to-day,
Tales strange, and old, and new,
Come out of that country far away
Where he sits the whole day through,
Spinning this colorful web as he may,
Spinning for me and you.