Help!! A childs poem that goes "What becomes of all the pins does anybody know......"

[GeorgieRH]

Hi there, I posted a thread a few years back about this poem. I only know parts of it and am tying to find a copy or someone who may know it in its entirety. I was directed to an anthology called Encore that was published in 1945 as someone said it was printed in that,but after spending a year searching and a lot of dollars in purchasing it and shipping it from the US, it arrived with a completely unrelated article of the same name. The poem I remember (told to me by my late Grandmother who was born in the 1920's and was a seamstress in WW2) goes like this...Can anyone fill in the gaps? What I have written I remember to be quite accurate.

What becomes of all the pins? Does anybody know?
Where all the rows of pins have gone and why they always go?
?????????????
Why, to fairyland where fairy homes are made....
????
Each must bring back a pin, or two by dawn to Fairyland
Before they let them in
????????????
Now next time Mummy drops a pin, you'll know where it has gone.

Thank you in advance to anyone who may be able to point me in the direction of a new search!!!!

[tailor STATELY]

I think this is part of the puzzle:

Horace Elisha Scudder ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace_Scudder ),


"THE BODLEY PICTURE GALLERY." 59

http://www.ebooksread.com/authors-eng/horace-elisha-scudder/the-bodleys-telling-stories-hci/page-3-the-bodleys-telling-stories-hci.shtml

and

http://www.archive.org/stream/bodleystellingst00scud/bodleystellingst00scud_djvu.txt

and
HARPER'S
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
VOLUME II.
DECEMBER, 1850, TO MAY, 1851.
"What becomes of all the pins ?" page 597



Children ! what becomes of the pins
That are put in the cushion each day ?

They vanish away before evening comes,
Or you are half tired of play.

I will tell you a secret revealed to me,

As I lay dreaming one night,
By a queer little sprite who perched by my ear,

And showed me a curious sight.

Invisible elves who watch for the pins,

In each corner and crevice hide;
They seize those that fall, with joy and delight

And mount on the pins astride.

They ride till they come to Fairy Land,

Where elves are waiting to take
The pins that are lost, and crooked, and bent.

And wonderful changes make.

They turn them to minims and musical notes.

Giving to each a sound I
Then away the elves fly to your music books,

Where melodies sweet are found.

Do you see the little black heads in a row

Where your music lesson begins?
Before they were carried to Fairy Land,
The notes were rows of pins !

The elves have secured them behind the bars

Arranged for piano or harp;
The broken and bent are now made flat.

The other pins still remain sharp !

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY