XI. Pigmy Seraphs Gone Astray


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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