And creeping through the music once again the fairy cry Came freezing o’er the snowy towers to lead us on to Peterkin: Once more the fairy bugles blew from lands beyond the sky, And we all groped out together, dazed and blind, we knew not why; Out through the City’s farther gates we went to look for Peterkin; Out, out into the dark Unknown, and heard the clamour die Far, far away behind us as we trotted on to Peterkin. Then once more along the rare Forest-paths we groped our way: Here the glow-worm’s league-long glare Turned the Wild Thyme night to day: There we passed a sort of whale Sixty feet in length or more, But we knew it was a snail Even when we heard it snore. Often through the glamorous gloom Almost on the top of us We beheld a beetle loom Like a hippopotamus; Once or twice a spotted toad Like a mountain wobbled by With a rolling moon that glowed Through the skin-fringe of its eye. Once a caterpillar bowed Down a leaf of Ygdrasil Like a sunset-coloured cloud Sleeping on a quiet hill: Once we came upon a moth Fast asleep with outspread wings, Like a mighty tissued cloth Woven for the feet of kings. There above the woods in state Many a temple dome that glows Delicately like a great Rainbow-coloured bubble rose: Though they were but flowers on earth, Oh, we dared not enter in; For in that divine re-birth Less than awe were more than sin! Yet their mystic anthems came Sweetly to our listening ears; And their burden was the same-- “No more sorrow, no more tears! Whither Peterkin has gone You, assuredly, shall go: When your wanderings are done, All he knows you, too, shall know!” So we thought we’d onward roam Till earth’s Smallest Flower appeared, With a less tremendous dome Less divinely to be feared: Then, perchance, if we should dare Timidly to enter in, Might some kindly doorkeeper Give us news of Peterkin. At last we saw a crimson porch Far away, like a dull red torch Burning in the purple gloom; And a great ocean of perfume Rolled round us as we drew anear, And then we strangely seemed to hear The shadow of a mighty psalm, A sound as if a golden sea Of music swung in utter calm Against the shores of Eternity; And then we saw the mighty dome Of some mysterious Temple tower On high; and knew that we had come, At last, to that sweet House of Grace Which wise men find in every place-- The Temple of the Smallest Flower.