VII

Away then! crashing through the wood, Of the Faun's

Prancing in a whimsey mood, Whimseys.

To yowl as a she-wolf does at dark

Until th’ infuriate watch-dogs bark;

Or bid hushed tales of ghosts go round,

Of warnings heard, but nothing found,

By whistling at the village boor;

Or poke my rogue face round a door

And scare a huffy wife to fits,

Who swears, “‘ Tis Pan himself!” or, “It's

That grizzled sailor-man who slew

His mate‘ twixt Bogs and Dead Man's Yew!”

Next through the dairy steal to slake

My thirst with cream, with honeycake

Cram my sweet maw; slip in the churn

A farm cat, that the tub may turn

And fright maid Molly. I will seek

Strawberries and stain chin, mouth and cheek

With nuzzling in their scarlet bowl;

Then in the goodman's bed I'll roll

Because he loves me not; I'll sing

Until the crowded rafters ring

The while about my ears I hang

Bobbed cherries.... Lastly I will clang

Among the clattering pots and pans,

Shout, cry “Oh help!” snatch up a man's

Cloak, and slip out.

Whoop! Whoop! They run: The Pursuit.

The hare once spied, the hunt's begun!—

Goodman and goodman's wife, pert Polly,

Clown Colin, Wiggen and maid Molly,

Pant, crying, “Thief!” The while behind

Shrunk Dorcas hops, and fills the wind

With apish merriment, shrill malice,

And cries of — “Well run, Poll! Run, Alice!

Run, child! The master's cloak and all!

How sad the goodman's ta'en a fall!

Mistress down, too — he! he! what pity!

Run, Alice child, my bird, my pretty;

Show‘ em how nimble thou canst be,—

Ay, but the girl runs prettily.

Run, Hobbinol, thou gawky man!

Thou mayest kiss if catch thou can!

Odd's me! and what's it all about?

A thief? That mischief Faun!”

A shout

Startles the pigeons from the croft:

“We've circled him!” “He's in the loft.”

But as they, silent, crowd unto‘ t

I jump. For am not I a goat?

From out the hayloft's height I leap

O'er their craned heads into the deep

Grass of the orchard. Thence I run

Across lush meadows. One by one

They fall behind....

A scarecrow I

Now seek, and‘ bout it carefully

Enwrap the newly pilfered cloak....

Scarecrows are such poor crazy folk....