And he’s just the one person I’m longing to meet,
I think that he sounds so exciting;
For he talks all the day to his tortoiseshell cat,
And he asks about this, and explains about that,
And at night he puts on a big [wide-awake¹] hat
And sits in the writing-room, writing.
He has worked all his life (and he’s terribly old)
At a wonderful spell which says, “Lo, and behold!
Your nursery fender is gold!”—and it’s gold!
(Or the tongs, or the rod for the curtain);