Iii

Ere the crowfoot on the lawn Lifts its head, Or the glow-worm's light be gone, Dim and dead, In a cobweb hammock deep, 'Twixt two ferns I swing and sleep, Hid away; Where the drowsy musk-rose blows And a dreamy runnel flows, In the land of Faery, Where no mortal thing can see, All the elfin day.