And he should be disturbed by none, not e'en a royal guest.
The porter nodded in his chair: I dare not say he slept:
But sprang upright, as through the door a fairy vision crept.
A tiny girl with shining eyes, and wavy golden hair,
Tip-toed along the corridor, and close up to his chair,
And a bird-like voice sweet questioned, "Wilhelmj, where is he?
I've brought a little tribute for the great mæstro,—see!"
Her looped-up dress she opened, displaying to his view
A mass of brilliant woodland flowers, wet with morning dew;
Placing his finger on his lip, he pointed out the door;