Classic Poem

The Goblin of Elfindale ages long
Had sung in the woodland his merry song.

He had lived in the far-off, golden day
When the Druids under their oaks held sway.

He had crouched with fear in his snug abode
When the Romans were making the woodland road.

He had heard the ring of the clanging blades
As the knights rode by to the far Crusades.

And now, each day, when the sun was high,
He sang as the stage-coach rattled by.

But at lasThe grew weary, and went to bed
On a bank of mosses; " I'm Sleepy, " he said.

And no wonder he was, the poor little thing:
For a thousand years he'd done nothing but sing.

So he rested, and knew not what passed on the way.
The leaves fell around him, and rotted away,

And the wild rose silently over him crept,
But still the Goblin of Elfindale slept.

But ah! he jumps! he's awake at last! —
With a snort and a roar a great car flies past.

And the Goblin stared at the dust that rose,
And with elfin fingers he held his nose.

The Goblin of Elfindale scratched his head,
" My whiskers! I must have slept! " he said.