(A grasshopper on my cap!

Away the moth flew!)

Buskins for a fairy prince,

Brogues for his son,—

Pay me well, pay me well,

When the job is done!'

The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.

I stared at him; he stared at me;

'Servant, Sir!' 'Humph!' says he,

And pull'd a snuff-box out.

He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,

The queer little Lepracaun;

Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,—

Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,

And while I sneezed,

Was gone!

[17]

[17]

THE GIRL'S LAMENTATION

With grief and mourning I sit to spin;

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