Through the dark and cloudy night,
Floating gaily in the air,
Here and there, and ev’rywhere.
“How your cheerful little gleam,
Joyful makes the darkness seem,
Where you flit no elf is sad,
Twinkle, twinkle, firefly glad.”
“I don’t see why you should sing that now,” said Owly. “It isn’t the least bit appropriate; the fireflies are not twinkling and won’t be for some time to come if we can judge by the look of the sky.”
“Isn’t that just like Owly?” said Slumber.
“You are always so literal, Owly,” said Rhymo. “Don’t you know that fact hasn’t half as much to do with music and poetry as fancy?”