Each from one slab of rush’s pith
Hewn, like majestic monolith,
The architrave to prop, therewith
The massy roof upholding.
Indoors ’twas all adusk and chill;
No Fay but felt a solemn thrill
To pace its cloistered twilight still
Mysterious glooms enfolding.
Then from the brook with trenching spade
Smooth dandelion tubes they laid,
And hemlock pipes that bitter made
The water thro’ them tasted;
Hence, some fastidious Fays would go
With acorn barrels to and fro,
Till this the King forbade, lest so
Their labour seem but wasted.
Herein alone his fortune frowned:
That in all Fayland was not found
The fire-snake, lured from underground
As even-dusk grows dimmer;
This lacked, they did for lamp-posts choose
Stout daisy-stems, and glowworms use,
Chained there all night with knot and noose,
To make a goodly glimmer.
Copyright by Macmillan & Co. 1894
But who so fain as Oberon,
That watched as every morn outshone
His peerless city waxing on,
While in its growth he gloried?
Triumphant joy it gave the King
To see each straw-plank scaffolding
Pulled down piecemeal, as walls upspring,
Wide-windowed, many-storied.
And ever his stirring Elves amid
He walked, and spied on all they did,
And toilers praised, and idlers chid,
With earnest speech and eager;
Till, swift as blades in April-time
Thro’ clod-cracks pricked, did skyward climb
Roof crowding roof; whereof my rime
Keeps but a record meagre.
And now ye might, in sooth, have thought,
Seeing all to such perfection wrought,
That Fays might well repose have sought,
From toil returned to pleasure.
Howbeit, not so their King inclined,
For fast as sped the works designed,
Fresh plans were shapen in his mind,
That wist not bound or measure.
Oft as from Palace towers he eyed
That spacious plain, as oft he sighed
To see it planted far and wide
With street-rows thick as stubble.
Nor seldom flaws of wind and rain,
Uplifting roof, and shattering pane,
That needs must be restored again,
Did Elfin labours double.