Lud-in-the-Mist

by Hope Mirrlees

"And can the physician make sick men well,

And can the magician a fortune divine

Without lily, germander, and sops in wine?

With sweet-brier,

And bon-fire,

And strawberry-wire,

And columbine."

"Good gracious, Nat!" cried Dame Marigold, with a mocking look of despair. "What on earth is the matter now?"

"Marigold! Marigold!" he cried hoarsely, seizing her wrists, "don't you hear?"

"I hear a vulgar old song, if that's what you mean. I've known it all my life. It is very kind and domesticated of Endymion Leer to turn nursemaid and rock the cradle like this!"