He kept crying o’er and o’er.
Swearing, snapping, musing, napping, presently there came a tapping,
Quite an unaccustomed tapping at this fate-tossed digger’s door,
And it roused him from his musing with expectancy confusing,
Made him listen to that tapping on the night’s Plutonian shore,
Wond’ring what could cause that tapping on the night’s Plutonian shore,
Wondering, guessing, more and more.
Softly then he seized a waddy, quietly he bore his body
To that space within his hut, immediately behind the door;
And with easiest, gentlest motion, like the wave of summer ocean,