Might pass a hundred times, nor see it.
Agog to see what manikin
Had shrined his household gods therein,
With step as light as tip-toe fairy’s
I stole right in among the Lares.
There in the cosiest of nooks,
Up to his very eyes in books,
Sat a lone wight, nor stout nor lean,
Nor old nor young, but just between,
Poring along the figured columns