Bring the buds of the hazel-copse,

Where two lovers kissed at noon;

Bring the crushed red wild-thyme tops

Where they murmured under the moon.

Bring the four-leaved clover also,

One of the white, and one of the red,

Bring the flakes of the may that fall so

Lightly over their bridal bed.

Drop them into the vial—so—

On the hill-top, in the dawn,

Singing softly, on tip-toe,

“Nixie—pixie—leprechaun!”

And, if once will not suffice,

Do it thrice!

If this fail, at break of day,

There remains a better way.

Bring an old and crippled child

—Ah, tread softly, on tip-toe!—

Tattered, tearless, wonder-wild,

From that under-world below,

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