Classic Poem

The white goat Amaryllis,
— She wandered at her will
At time of daffodillies
— Afar and up the hill:
We hunted and we holloa'd
— And back she came at dawn,
But what d'you think had followed? —
— A little, pagan Faun!

His face was like a berry,
— His ears were high and pricked:
Tip-tap — his hoofs came merry
— As up the path he clicked;
A junket for his winning
— We set in dairy delf;
He eat it — peart and grinning
— As Christian as yourself!

He stayed about the steading
— A fortnight, say, or more;
A blanket for his bedding
— We spread beside the door;
And when the cocks crowed clearly
— Before the dawn was ripe,
He'd call the milkmaids cheerly
— Upon a reedy pipe!

That fortnight of his staying
— The work went smooth as silk:
The hens were all in laying,
— The cows were all in milk;
And then — and then one morning
— The maids woke up at day
Without his oaten warning, —
— And found he'd gone away.

He left no trace behind him;
— But still the milkmaids deem
That they, perhaps, may find him
— With butter and with cream:
Beside the door they set them
— In bowl and golden pat,
But no one comes to get them —
— Unless, maybe, the cat.

The white goat Amaryllis,
— She wanders at her will
At time of daffodillies,
— Away up Woolcombe hill;
She stays until the morrow,
— Then back she comes at dawn;
But never — to our sorrow —
— The little, pagan Faun.