And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Peaseblossom. Hail, mortal!
Cobweb. Hail!
Moth. Hail!
Mustardseed. Hail!