Not in this world to see his face
Sounds long, until I read the place
Where there is said to be
Another book, inside, hiding life
Unopened, rare, upon the shelf:
A leprechaun. For me!
And now my pygmy suits me so
I would not choose a sprite to know
Than him, to keep me company.
Might some one else so busy be,
And leave me just my elfin friend,
Himself could have the winds!
Dickinson’s ultimate version.