“There be three Badgers on a mossy stone, Beside a dark and covered way: Each dreams himself a monarch on his throne, And so they stay and stay Though their old Father languishes alone, They stay, and stay, and stay. “There be three Herrings loitering around, Longing to share that mossy seat: Each Herring tries to sing what she has found That makes Life seem so sweet. Thus, with a grating and uncertain sound, They bleat, and bleat, and bleat, “The Mother-Herring, on the salt sea-wave, Sought vainly for her absent ones: The Father-Badger, writhing in a cave, Shrieked out 'Return, my sons! You shalt have buns,' he shrieked, 'if you'll behave! Yea, buns, and buns, and buns!' “'I fear,' said she, 'your sons have gone astray? My daughters left me while I slept.' 'Yes 'm,' the Badger said: 'it's as you say.' 'They should be better kept.' Thus the poor parents talked the time away, And wept, and wept, and wept.” Here Bruno broke off suddenly. “The Herrings' Song wants anuvver tune, Sylvie,” he said. “And I ca'n't sing it not wizout oo plays it for me!” {Image...'Three badgers, writhing in a cave'} Instantly Sylvie seated herself upon a tiny mushroom, that happened to grow in front of a daisy, as if it were the most ordinary musical instrument in the world, and played on the petals as if they were the notes of an organ. And such delicious tiny music it was! Such teeny-tiny music! Bruno held his head on one side, and listened very gravely for a few moments until he had caught the melody. Then the sweet childish voice rang out once more:-- “Oh, dear beyond our dearest dreams, Fairer than all that fairest seems! To feast the rosy hours away, To revel in a roundelay! How blest would be A life so free--- Ipwergis-Pudding to consume, And drink the subtle Azzigoom! “And if in other days and hours, Mid other fluffs and other flowers, The choice were given me how to dine--- 'Name what thou wilt: it shalt be thine!' Oh, then I see The life for me Ipwergis-Pudding to consume, And drink the subtle Azzigoom!” “Oo may leave off playing now, Sylvie. I can do the uvver tune much better wizout a compliment.” “He means 'without accompaniment,'” Sylvie whispered, smiling at my puzzled look: and she pretended to shut up the stops of the organ. “The Badgers did not care to talk to Fish: They did not dote on Herrings' songs: They never had experienced the dish To which that name belongs: And oh, to pinch their tails,' (this was their wish,) 'With tongs, yea, tongs, and tongs!'” I ought to mention that he marked the parenthesis, in the air, with his finger. It seemed to me a very good plan. You know there's no sound to represent it--any more than there is for a question.