“Run, Tiny, run! Oh, Kitty! Twig! The little rascal is gone! Run, Toody, run! Ah, I caught you; you are the one who loosened the cage-door. Run, Tiny! Oh, Kitty, Twig, and Crocus, that robin redbreast story was only meant to fool us!” Thus cried Grandmother Grey, till she was breathless.
“Off they all ran trooping,
And hallooing and whooping,
Beneath the low boughs stooping,
Right through the wood,
For Grandmama Grey,
Like an old duck, led the way,
When a string of ducks trudge to a flood.
Then came Kitty, side by side
With Toody, who oft cried;
‘Oh, Kitty dear, was ever such rare fun, fun, fun!’
And Crocus close to Twig,
Both scampered in a jig,
For they knew the Elf his freedom-race had won, won, won!
As for him, the roguish Elf,
He took good care of himself;
His mites of legs they twinkled as he fled, fled, fled.
He was scarcely seen, indeed,
He so glistened with his speed,
And his hair streamed out like silver grass behind his head.”
So Dame Grey and the children chased the Elf till they were hot and tired, and till the sun went down; and by and by they gave up, and all went home to let Martha wash their soiled hands and faces.
It was a warm and pleasant night, and before very long all the children were fast asleep.
“Within a very little nook,
Toody always slept alone,
Its strip of window stole a look
Over the lawn and hayrick-cone.
Within the open lattice crept
Some jasmine from the cottage wall,
And to the breathing of her sleep,
Softly swayed, with rise and fall.
But something else comes creeping in,
As softly, from the starry night—
The Elf!—’tis he!—first peeping in,
Now like a moth doth he alight.
He trips up to the little bed,
And near it hangs a full-blown rose;
Then in the middle of the flower
Places a light that gleams and glows.
It is a glowworm from the lea,
And lighting up the rose’s heart,
A fairy grot it seems to be,
Where dream-thoughts live and ne’er depart.
And now the Elf once more is gone
Into the woodlands wild,
Leaving his blessing thus to shine
Upon the sleeping child.”