Tricksy Puck! I shall not tell How it is I know him well. Swift yet clumsy, plump yet wee, Brown as hazel-nut is he; And from either temple springs Such a waving, hair-like horn As by butterflies is worn; Glassy-clear his glistening wings, Like the small green-bodied flies’ In the birch-woods; and his eyes, Set aslant, as blackly shine As the myriad globes wherein The wild blackberry keeps her wine; And his voice is piercing thin, But he changes that at will-- Mocking rogue!--with birdlike skill. How it is I must not tell, But you see I know him well. Ah! with some rare, secret spell Should we bathe in moonlit dew Eyes that this world’s book have read, We should see him and his crew In the dreamy summer dell: For, howe’er the tale be spread, Puck, the pranksome, is not dead! A LULLABY Now while rest the happy herds, And in folds the fleecy sheep, All the boughs are full of birds, Crowding, sound asleep. _Sleep, sleep, sleep, Under the fair, fair flocks of stars That roam all night and know no bars, Sleep, sweet, sleep!_ Now if we an Owl could ride,-- Yes, an Owl with yellow eyes, Globy lanterns, clear and wide, Flaming while he flies,-- We should see the pretty things, Pretty little sleepy souls! All their heads beneath their wings, Blind with sleep as moles! _Sleep, sleep, sleep, Under the wild, winged winds that fly All night long across the sky, Sleep, sweet, sleep!_ THE PORTRAIT OF THE PRINCESS Tiny, stately maid of Spain, With your formal fan and train! Strange the spell the painter cast, Strong to make you live and last! Some one, Sweet, who bore your name, Changed and grew, as people do; Had adventures gay or tragic; Died, one day--yet here are you, By the wand-like brush’s magic Held among us, just the same! On your brow the same soft curls, On your wrist the changeless pearls, In the gems the moveless gleams, In your eyes the selfsame dreams; What a fairy-tale it seems!