Debbienho !

Greetings, my loves, from nigh and yonder, ’Tis I, Dame Thistle, Fairy Godmother, Here resting after thousand journeys, From creating slippers, winging tourneys. I’ve come to see with no small misery, It’s much desired by all and sundry At some point of their animation   To feel and love without condition. But how, they fear—and here I frown, Can they, when they’ve none to call their own? Taking respite after many wonderings, The answer nipped me after many ponderings. Propped up behind my desk I touch A quill to paper—or parchment, or such To give, at last, the besought secret Of love, yes love, you best believe it! For although you may want me there, I, my dears, can’t be everywhere! And so here goes the detailed list, Of rules to make love’s precious mist! First get some dew, some fresh good dew, Best what you find at dawn—say, two. ‘Not water?’ you ask? Oh goodness, no! Then how’ll the potion surreally glow? Instructions child—th