A FAIRY TALE.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 162, 11 July 1925, Page 26

A FAIRY TALE.

Now this is the story of Olaf, Who, ages and ages ago, Lived right on the top of a mountain, A mountain all covered with snow. And he was quite pretty and tiny. With beautiful curling fnir hair. And small hands like delicate flowers— Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air. He lived in a hut made of pinewood, Just one little room and a door, A table, a chair, and a bedstead. And animal skins on the floor. Now Olaf was partly a fairy, And so never wanted to eat; He thought dewdrops and raindrops were plenty, And snowflakes and all perfumes sweet. In the daytime, when sweeping and dusting And cleaning were quite at an end, He would sit very still on the doorstep And dream—oh, that he had a friend! ■ Somebody to come when he called them, Somebody to catch by tlie hand. Somebody to sleep with at night time, Somebody who'd quite understand. One night in the middle of Winter lie lay wide awake on his bed, Outside there was fury of tempest And calling of wolves to be fed— Thin wolves, grey and silent as shadows, And Olaf was frightened to death ; lie had peeped through a crack in the doorpost, He had seen, the white smok" , of their breath. But suddenly over the storm wind He heard a small voice pleadingly Cry, "I am a snow fairy, Olaf ; Unfasten the window for mc." So he did, and there flew through the opening. The daintiest, prettiest sprite ; Her face, and her dress, and her stockings Her hands, and her curls were all White. And she said: "O you poor little stranger, Before 1 am melted, you know, I have brought you a valuable present, A little brown fiddle and bow. So now you can never be lonely, With a fiddle, you see, for a friend ; But all through tne summer and winter l'lay beautiiul songs without cud." And then —0 she melted like water, But Olaf was happy at last; The fiddle he tucked in bis shoulder, lie held his small bow very last. So perhaps on the quietest evenings, If you listen, you may hear him soon, The child who is playing the fidule Awuy up in the colu, luneiy moon. —KATHEKINE MANSFIELD.