I

When the lily nods in slumber, And the roses are all sleeping; When the night hangs deep and umber, And the stars their watch are keeping: When the clematis uncloses Like a hand of snowy fire; And the golden-lipped primroses, To the tiger-moths' desire, Each a mouth of musk unpuckers-- Silken pouts of scented sweetness, Which they sip with honey-suckers:-- Shod with hush and winged with fleetness, You may see the Little People, Round and round the drowsy steeple Of a belfried hollyhock,-- Clad in phlox and four-o'-clock, Gay of gown and pantaloon,-- Dancing by the glimmering moon, Till the cock, the long-necked cock, Crows them they must vanish soon.