In the moony brake

IN the moony brake, 
When we laugh and wake, 
And our dance begins, 
Violets hang their chins. 

Fast asleep ; 
While we laugh and leap. 

Woodbine leaves above, 
Each a tiny dove. 
Roost upon the bare 
Winter stems, and there 

Peaceful cling ; 
While we shout and sing. 

On the rooty earth 
Ferns of April's birth, 
Brown and closely furled, 
Sleep like squirrels curled 

Warm and still ; 
While we frisk our fill. 

Hark ! our ears have caught 
Sound of breath and snort 
Near our beechen tree 
Mixing carelessly. 
Sprites, away! 
Fly as if 'twere day ! 
* * * * 
Silence ! on the ground 
Set the toadstool round. 
Of these mortals twain 
We to talk will deign, 
Grave and wise, 
Till the morning rise.