THE AWKWARD
Once many a bit we sponged, but now,
God help us! that is done with:
Our shoes are all danced out, we trow,
We’ve but naked soles to run with.
WILL-O’-THE WISPS
From the marshes we appear,
Where we originated;
Yet in the ranks, at once, we’re here
As glittering gallants rated.
SHOOTING-STAR
Darting hither from the sky,
In star and fire light shooting,
Cross-wise now in grass I lie:
Who’ll help me to my footing?
THE HEAVY FELLOWS
Room! and round about us, room!
Trodden are the grasses:
Spirits also, spirits come,
And they are bulky masses.
PUCK
Enter not so stall-fed quite,
Like elephant-calves about one!
And the heaviest weight to-night
Be Puck, himself, the stout one!