The Death of Puck In woodland and home Puck lies silent, his laughter stilled. For white bread and milk, this fairy's heart no longer thrilled. Yet in the quiet, chores undone, the mischief of his spirit a memory, Knavish he, dances in glades of yesteryear, now not to be. Once with a whisper of magic, the jester of the Fairy court’s delight, he no longer plays his pranks in the soft, silent hush of night. Now in stories told, poems writ, hearts aglow and spirits high, we bid tales of Fairy Folk a sad, yet sweet goodbye. For in each poetic line of favored past, a world we find, a treasure to sing again for fondness of, in heart and mind.
