POETRY.
THE FAIRY SHOEMAKER.
Tiros a mossy root he sat, Beneath an aged fairy tree, In buckled shoes and three-cocked hat, And breeches gartered at the knee, As ugly as a chimpanzee.
His eyes were bright, and in them shone That spirit of laughing mockery Betokening a Leprechaun.
Ho hammered at a fairy boot, And gaily whistling as he wrought, Kept beating time with tiny foot To tune that mortal never taught.
I stole behind, and swiftly caught Him where his doublet's points were drawn: He was not troubled or distraught, That philosophic Leprechaun.
"Yield me your treasure, quick!" I said.
Wrinkling his nose, he sudden lied "That branch is falling—mind your head!"
My eye a moment glanced aside, Whereat he bolted, grinning wide, And vanished like a dream at dawn.
Then from the bushes mocking cried, " You've lost your lucky Leprechaun!"
'Tie ever thus in Erin's Isle: An elf fantastic leads you on;
Hope greets you with a genial smile—
Then mocks you like a Leprechaun!
J. Carouser SCOTT.
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