In the moony brake

In the moony brake,
When we laugh and wake,
And our dance begins,
Violets hang their chins.
Fast asleep;
While we laugh and leap.

Woodbine leaves above,
Each a tiny dove.
Roost upon the bare
Winter stems, and there
Peaceful cling;
While we shout and sing.

On the rooty earth
Ferns of April's birth,
Brown and closely furled,
Sleep like squirrels curled
Warm and still;
While we frisk our fill.

Hark! our ears have caught
Sound of breath and snort
Near our beechen tree
Mixing carelessly.
Sprites, away!
Fly as if 'twere day!
Silence! on the ground
Set the toadstool round.
Of these mortals twain
We to talk will deign,
Grave and wise,
Till the morning rise.