And fancy is thridding In vistas of green, Where the moth is out bidding The cock for his sheen;
And the bee with his treasure, Is at rest on a stone-- The measure of pleasure, The depth of his own;
The blue-bells are tinkling, The mocking birds woo,-- In a beautiful sprinkling Of scintilant dew,
Far down in the grasses, In a magical ring, A clinking their glasses, Sits Puck and the King.
"Methinks, saith the King, If the dome of our palace, Were as happy a thing, As the dome in this chalice,
"Of glittering dew, And half so resplendent, As fancy is too, In this liquor impendent;
"Methinks, saith the King, Then life were as jolly, In this magical ring, As its spirit of folly;
"Methinks, saith the King, Titania were sweeter, And this magical ring Were magic completer.
"For the vixen is wild, With this Squire from the highlands-- Like a sailor beguiled, To magical islands,
"At sound of a voice, To plunge in the sea foam, And, dying, rejoice, That the island should be foam.
"Methinks, saith the King This rascal were better, Far out of the ring, In handcuff and fetter.
"For he talketh of love, And faith, hope, and charity, And a spirit above, As the spirit of parity.
"And thou, saith the King, Hath certain the gumption, To see thus the spring Of pleasure's consumption.
"Of late thou hast wandered, To see and be seen, And much thou hast squandered My riches, I ween.
"Relate thine indentures, Important of state, And all thine adventures, Of worth to relate."
"A trace of wine's on the breath of summer, And the spirit of June is a pure delight, And the brimmer of light is sparkling and bright With a cheer for the gladdest comer.
"Aloft in the oak a dove was cooing, And a little gray bird on sycamore twig, Was a pause abreath with a feathery sprig, And flittered away to his wooing.
"I peep'd in a bloom and a bee was in it, I peered on a leaf and a moth slept there. Ah! was ever a dream so deliciously rare, And all for a tip-toed minute!"
Then Oberon winketh, Reward to his Puck, And solemnly drinketh, The nation much luck.
"Good! Then let us be merry, And call up the court-- Each knight and his deary, For song and for sport.
"But none that are gloomy, What ever the cost-- Though the palace be roomy, Their space is all lost."