Of Horner’s pie, or Tiddler’s gold,
Or fairy hobbling to the door, 55
Red-cloaked and weird, banned and poor,
To bless the good child’s gracious eyes,
The good child’s wistful charities,
And crippled changeling’s hunch to make
Dance on his crutch, for good child’s sake. 60
How is it with the child? ’Tis well;
Nor would I any miracle
Might stir my sleeper’s tranquil trance,