Oh! Where Do Fairies Hide Their Heads?

Oh! where do fairies hide their heads
When snow lies on the hills,
When frost has spoil'd their mossy beds,
And crystalliz'd their rills?
Beneath the moon they cannot 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 wreathed shells
That lie in coral caves;
Perhaps, in red Vesuvius,
Carousals they maintain;
And cheer their little 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 key-hole will be fairy-proof,
When green leaves come again.