Nature

XI. Pigmy Seraphs Gone Astray

XI.

Pigmy seraphs gone astray,
Velvet people from Vevay,
Belles from some lost summer day,
Baby dwarves’ exclusive coterie.
Paris itself does not know
Of earth-sprites so very old;
Venice could never host
More than a few, at most.
Never such an ambuscade
As of brier and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid.
I had rather have her itty grace
Than the smallest, bitty lace;
I had rather dwell like her
Than live high above Exeter,
Royalty enough for me
To become so cutely wee!

 

The version published in 1924. A more authentic version, with interpretation and different line breaks, and the usual greater plethora of dashes. And yes, that’s an accepted variant spelling of “pygmy.”

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